Civil Skirmishes
by Cherylann Rivers
Summary: As Frank and Joe, along with their girlfriends and friends, head to Gettysburg, PA for a little fun vacation, they encounter more than they bargained for when they find themselves in the midst of two separate mysteries during one of the town's busiest times. Both brothers, Joe especially, must face internal battles to try to grow up along the way. Further summary in Chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** _This story takes place in the summer when Frank and Callie are 21 and about to enter their junior year of college, and Joe and Vanessa are 20 and are entering their sophomore year. It follows the same universe as "First Encounters," "Alternate Plans," "The Secret Spaces," and the "Stages of Conviction," but it flashes back in time; thus, Joe and Callie are still at odds with one another and Joe is at a major crossroads in his life as he tries to grow up. I wanted to explore, in addition to the mystery, the following ideas: how Frank and Callie would have tried to deal with her trauma, how Joe and Callie came to work out their issues and become close friends, how Chet and Joe worked through their guilt and altered relationship, and, above all, how Joe learned to let go of Iola and commit to Vanessa._

 _I think of this story, other than the major Frank and Callie element, as a story of Joe maturing and letting go at this most difficult time in his life, where he makes a lot of mistakes but grows from them with the help of Frank, Callie, Vanessa, Chet, and Biff. It was fun to compare and contrast Joe and Vanessa to Frank and Callie, as both couples struggle very much in their own way to fight for their futures. None of them are the confident and secure people whom they grow into in my stories that take place in the future. Finally, I should also give a blanket warning that there is cursing in several chapters and suggestive adult scenarios, though, as usual, nothing is graphic._

 _The completed story is 35 chapters and I shall try to stick to a Thursday/ Sunday posting schedule- except for Chapter 1, because I am excited to post it! :) I love to hear what you think and all feedback is welcome. Thanks in advance to all who read, follow, and, especially, review! Hope you enjoy!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 1

"Van! Almost ready?" Twenty -year old blond, blue-eyed Joe Hardy called into the bedroom of the apartment of his girlfriend, Vanessa Bender. Both students at Bayport University, they were preparing to go on a week long trip to a few towns in Pennsylvania, several hours away, and they would be accompanied by Joe's older brother Frank and his girlfriend, Callie Shaw. Later, their friends Chet Morton and Biff Hooper would be joining up with them as well. As usual, he and Vanessa were running late.

Vanessa emerged from the room moments later, a sheepish grin on her pretty face. "I'm sorry," she said, looking frazzled. "I just never know how to pack! I either over-pack or under-pack, and I have no idea what's appropriate for the ball we need to attend." She ran a hand nervously through her long, ash-blonde hair and pleaded with him for understanding.

Joe walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "You would be gorgeous if you wore nothing," he assured her, looking into her blue-gray eyes. "Come to think of it, maybe that's not such a bad…"

"Stop!" Vanessa cut him off, laughing. "Not now! I still have to finish packing, babe, and so do you. Don't forget- part of this is research for the class I'm taking next semester. I wanted to get a little head start on the paper I know I'll be doing on ghost sightings in the Civil War. You have to admit that it's kind of a cool topic."

Joe rolled his eyes as he gave her a quick kiss. "Van, yeah. The topic is semi- interesting. But babe- it's only the end of June! You have two months to just chill and not think about school. Are you sure you want to do this now?"

Slowly, Vanessa pulled away from Joe and sighed before answering. "Come on, Joe. I've planned this since before school let out. You know it has to be now. They're commemorating the Battle of Gettysburg, and that was July 1, 2, and 3 in 1863. We HAVE to be there for these dates! I scheduled the tours and the ball, which was really hard to do, since it'll be so crowded. It looks really interesting. And after that, we'll still hopefully have a few days at Hershey Park and Lancaster. It's educational and fun at the same time, and it'll be so nice to spend time with the guys and Frank and Callie, too, right?" She raised her eyebrows.

Joe scowled. "I guess."

"What do you mean, 'you guess'?" Vanessa asked, perplexed. "Geez, Joe, if you had a problem with any of this, I wish you would have told me a long time ago." Her eyes reflected her hurt, and Joe felt bad at once. He reached for her hand, which Vanessa reluctantly took.

"I apologize," he said softly, and touched her cheek with his free hand. "Of course I'm happy to go, Van. Anything to get away with my favorite girl is good by me," he continued, sincerely. "Even if I have to dress up as a debonair union soldier, which will undoubtedly allow for blackmail pictures for the rest of my life, it'll be worth it for you." He winked at her and flashed his brightest smile.

Vanessa felt a smile start to tug at the corner of her mouth and she almost gave into his charms, but resisted. "Well, I'll be damned hot in my pretty petticoat and dress, I do declare," she answered with a terrible Southern drawl.

Joe shook his head and laughed. "And I'll be kicked out of the ball and hanged for apparently dating a woman in the Confederacy," he joked, receiving a smack on the arm from Vanessa. She led him to the bedroom and threw a pile of clothes at him. "Fold," she commanded, and he bowed slightly as he helped her get the finishing touches on her own wardrobe in order.

He smiled to himself as he listened to Vanessa talk, enjoying the ease of her companionship, the fact that her place was starting to feel as much as a home as his own apartment did. While Vanessa and her roommate kept the place decently in order, though, the apartment that he shared with his best friend, Biff, was, as his brother Frank often said, "suitable to be condemned." But it worked for them, neither one minding how messy the place got until they'd go on their once a month "ten minute tidy," and move on with their lives.

"I'm actually excited about the ball," she admitted to him as they continued to pack. "Callie and I studied a lot of the moves of the time period- don't worry; we'll show you guys before the dance- and we're renting the ballgowns from the dress shop. It's the same place we're renting your uniforms! Anyway, I gave them our sizes and sent pictures, and I can't wait to see what they pick out for us," she went on, cheerfully.

"Mmmm," Joe intoned as he tried to concentrate on the folding. "Well, I'm sure you'll look amazing, as always."

Vanessa stopped packing again and turned to him, suspicious. "So will Callie," she reminded him.

He shrugged. "Whatever."

"That's what this is about, huh?" Vanessa concluded, shaking her head. "Joe, you need to stop this, babe. Callie's my best friend. She's an amazing person, and…"

"And I don't have to like her," Joe replied, simply.

Vanessa sighed, frustrated. "Well, you kind of do," she reminded him. "Because your brother loves her, and so do I."

"You can love her all you want," Joe answered, not wanting to get into it, but knowing he had no choice. So, rather than prolong it, he just looked at her and decided to be direct. "But I don't have to. Look, Van," he went on, trying to be calm. "Callie's okay. We started getting along a little bit at the end of high school- you know that. And then a little bit better after our last case this summer. But she and Frank broke up for a year and a half- that's a long time- and they've only been back together since Christmas. And most of the time they've been apart- he's in New Jersey and she's in California. And she's heading back to California in six weeks. I don't trust it."

Vanessa put her hands on her hips. "You don't need to. You didn't talk to Callie that whole time; I did. She never stopped loving Frank, Joe."

"And YOU didn't have to deal with my brother being so upset all that time," he countered. "You didn't see him try to contact her and have her reject him. I never want to see him hurt like that again."

He crossed his arms.

Vanessa shook her head. "Look, Joe. Callie never said a word to me about why they broke up. But, you told me that Frank told you that he cheated on HER. It wasn't the opposite way around. She had every right to call it off with him. I would have."

Joe's mouth fell open before he found his voice. "He was sorry, Vanessa. He felt awful. He tried to make it up to her." He couldn't quite explain why his defenses were up. Maybe it was because of how many times he'd messed up with the women he cared about, even the ones he didn't, and he almost always managed to charm his way back into their good favor. But his brother, who had only cared for and been in love with one person his whole life, had made one mistake, and suffered a lot for it. He couldn't help but to blame Callie for putting him through it.

"Well, whoop-di-do," Vanessa went back at him. "If you cheated on me, I'd be out. I don't give a crap how bad you would feel about it. If you felt that bad, you wouldn't have done it."

Joe flushed and remained defensive of his brother, and he was not someone who backed down. But… he took a deep breath. This fight wasn't worth it. Vanessa was every bit as loyal and 'spirited' as he was, and he wouldn't win. Somehow, with her, _only_ with her, winning wasn't always the most important thing. He wasn't used to that feeling, and it scared him a little what it might mean.

They'd been dating now almost two and a half years. It had taken him a long time to deal with the loss of his former girlfriend, and, after Iola's death, he had lashed out horribly, done really bad and self destructive things. Then he had finally met Vanessa, the physical and almost personality opposite of Iola, but equally as smart and beautiful. And slowly, on high alert, he had started to let his guard down, and found himself falling in love. And though that feeling still threw him, he cherished every moment of it, trying to overcome the biggest obstacle to love and commitment- _himself-_ for Vanessa. He'd come a long way, because she had given him time and patience. And she continued to do so, as he worked on himself.

He threw the clothes on the bed, crossed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her deeply. When she pulled back, flushed and surprised, he smiled. "Good thing I'm smart enough not to cheat on the most beautiful and amazing woman in the world," he said softly. "I love you. Don't worry. I'll be nice to Callie. I don't know if Gettysburg could handle another war." He kissed her cheek.

Resigned, Vanessa rested her head on his shoulder. "I love you, too," she whispered. Then, mischievously, she met his eyes. "Bless your heart," she drawled.

Joe laughed. "I think you just told me to F*ck off," he joked, "but- my lady- a man such as myself is not so easily disparaged."

Vanessa giggled. "Come on, lover boy. We're late. And I can't wait to get this vacation started."

Joe smiled. "Pack some sexy pantaloons," he teased, and Vanessa rolled her eyes, blushing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Brown-eyed, dark- haired 21 year old Frank Hardy glanced at his watch again as he waited with Callie on the swing of her front porch. Their bags were packed and stacked next to them, and he was trying not to get annoyed. This was late, even for Joe.

Callie rested her head against his shoulder, and adjusted her ponytail neatly, which held back her long, golden- blonde hair. She looked up at him, chocolate eyes twinkling as she held back a smile. "Honey, relax. We're not in a hurry. If we're late, so be it. I'm just happy to be with you."

Frank heard her words and found himself smiling. He quickly kissed her lips. "You're right," he admitted, looking into her eyes.

"I'm always right," she teased as she leaned her head up for another kiss, with which he readily complied.

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed, content. He stretched his lean 6'1" frame and then slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close again. At 5'3", she was petite, yet he always marveled at how well they fit together, how perfect she always felt in his arms. "I guess this will be fun, right?" he asked casually, looking out onto the well- manicured lawn.

"Of course!" Callie answered. "I've never been to any of these places, and it's always fun to take vacations. Especially with you," she added, softly.

Frank kissed her head and rubbed her shoulder. "I want this one to be amazing," he said after a few minutes. He shifted slightly so he could face her. "I feel like time with you just slips away so quickly," he began, voice tight. "I mean, I didn't see you for five months while you were in school, and then, when you got back in May, I was on a case with Joe. Then, when that ended, you were away with your parents. And you got back..."

"Yup. I know," Callie agreed. "You were on another case that Van and I accidentally got involved with. That wasn't fun."

Frank's eyes clouded over at the memory. A simple date with his brother and their girlfriends in Central Park had turned into a stakeout gone bad, and Callie had been hurt. Though her injuries weren't very serious, he couldn't stand to see her in pain, and it was a less than perfect way to have her back with him. Frank sighed and rubbed her cheek tenderly. "Eight days," he managed.

She looked at him quizzically.

"That's all the time I've seen you since you got back from school in May. Just eight days. And that kills me, Cal." He cleared his throat, unsure of himself. "Then, when we get back from this vacation, you'll have only one month until you head back to school. It's… it's just really hard not to be with you. That's all."

Callie stood slowly and offered him her hand. He stood next to her and pulled her close, enjoying the quiet moment of holding the woman he loved in his arms.

Callie buried her face in his chest and gently rubbed his back. It was several moments before she looked up. "Two more years. Just two more. Then I'll be here on the east coast again and home. With you."

" _Home_. I like that," he replied, softly. "Sure I can't convince you to transfer?"

She smiled against his chest again. "Junior year? I have a ton of credits already completed."

"Sure," he replied, stroking her neck gently. "Why not? I…"

"I can't," she answered, cuddling closer. "I have to finish this out. I have to prove to myself that I can do this. I can face it again, like I have the past two years." Her voice trembled the slightest amount, and he held her closer, instinctively. "Besides, who the heck transfers into Princeton? They're not exactly recruiting to get the word out about the school."

"John had better take care of you," he managed at last, trying to keep the edge out of his voice as he referred to her best friend, John Gellers.

"He will," she assured him. "He always does. At least we're in a really nice place now since Johnny got the role on that soap opera! And you'd better visit any time you can, okay? Because Christmas break is a long time away."

"Of course I will," he assured her. "And you come to see me if you can. I'll send you the ticket. I don't care what it costs."

"Well, if that's the case," she teased gently, "feel free to send expensive jewelry, handbags, whatever you're in the mood for."

"Whatever you want," he replied, seriously.

Very reluctantly, Callie backed away from his arms. "I was joking," she said, smiling softly. Then, she looked toward the street. "They ARE late," she admitted. "Hmm. Think your brother is avoiding me?" she asked, only half -teasing.

Frank's eyes darkened again. "Don't let Joe bother you, baby. He just- you know-" Frank tripped over his words.

"I know," she replied, surprising him. "He's protective of you. He thinks I'm going to hurt you."

"He means well, Cal."

"No, he doesn't," Callie replied in frustration. "Look, I like Joe. I like the fact that he has always been there for you. After Iola died," she paused a moment, reflective, "we had a moment of clarity there. Things were getting a lot better. But when we separated… well, he's never really come around since then. I thought we might have had a little breakthrough after the case this summer, but he clammed up again. I don't know what else to do."

"I told him," Frank replied quietly.

"Told him what?'" she asked, confused.

"What happened when we broke up. That it was me- not you." His eyes were downcast.

"You… you did?" she asked, shocked.

"You really never told anyone?" he asked, surprised.

"John. I told him. Obviously," she replied. "But you knew that. No. No one else."

"You're pretty incredible, you know that?" he asked, squeezing her hand, which he had reached for. "Thank you. You had every right to tell whoever you wanted."

"I didn't want to think about it," she replied quietly. "Anyway," she looked up, "that's done." She gave him a tight smile. "Forever."

"Absolutely," Frank agreed, not wanting to think of it, himself. It still hurt badly, almost two years later. And so much had happened since then. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"So why has Joe been so cold, then?" she asked him, finally.

"Baby, I don't know. But he's always been there for me, and he's always had my back. I really hope the two of you can work things out. We're not fifteen anymore. I want my two best friends to at least like each other." His words held a joking tone to them, but his eyes were serious.

"We both love you," Callie said, after a few minutes. "It's a start."

Frank smiled. "I don't want to waste any more time, honey. There's not enough of it with you to begin with."

"Well then," Callie whispered, standing on tiptoe and wrapping her arms around Frank's neck, "I guess we just better make the most of every minute we have together."

Frank pulled her close and leaned his head down towards her. Several minutes later, completely lost in an increasingly passionate kiss, he was ready to forget the whole trip and take Callie inside, immediately, when a loud "HONK" broke them apart.

"Come on, you two!" Joe's voice called out. "Act appropriately! Disgusting!"

They broke apart, both completely flushed, and trying to catch their breath and regain their composure, and Frank shook his head in disgust at his brother.

"Two hours late!" Frank called out, pointing to his watch, as Joe got out of the car, waved a quick hello to Callie, and went to grab their bags.

Twenty minutes later, their drive began. Noting that, at least for now, there was a relative peace, camaraderie, and fun conversation, Vanessa pulled down the visor in the front passenger seat and met Frank's eyes in the mirror. She winked at him and subtly crossed her fingers.

He smiled and crossed his own fingers back.

Maybe, just maybe, they might be able to avoid a war after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** _Thank you so much to everyone reading and following the story and for those who left reviews, for which I am very grateful. I very much appreciate the encouragement! Thank you to Hero 76, Tin Dog, BeeBee 18, BMSH, hlahabibty, hbndbgirl, Erin Jordan, sm2003495, Drumboy100, max2013, Iheartninjago2010, Paulina Ann, and EvergreenDreamweaver._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 2

By the time that they arrived at their beautiful bed and breakfast, it was almost 5:00 p.m. The two couples had agreed to split up and to reconvene at 9:00, where Vanessa had arranged to join a small group for a ghost tour around the town, figuring it would provide a good overview of Gettysburg and a solid introduction to her research.

"Oh my gosh! Isn't this just beautiful?" Vanessa gushed as she looked around the room that she would be sharing with Joe. She plopped on the bed, crossing her long legs under her, unable to stop smiling.

Joe, who had just finished placing their luggage on the floor, grinned, walked to the bed, sat down next to her, and slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Almost as beautiful as you," he replied, and kissed her cheek.

Vanessa sighed happily before speaking. "Oh, Joe. This is going to be great. I just feel it. The car ride here was so much fun. Everyone is getting along, I got to go over the plans, and we are going to have the nicest time!"

"Yeah, I-" Joe went to reply, but Vanessa cut him off.

"Do you think that Callie and Frank have the schedule down? I know I sent it to Cal, but she's so laid back with things like this. I guess Frank would have been the one to send it to, huh? I mean, he's so organized, like me. But then again, that would be totally weird, right?" She rambled on, excited, and Joe just sat back, amused.

"Mmmm," he intoned.

"Exactly! I knew you'd agree. So tonight, I guess, isn't the hard part. Dinner at 6:00, then the tour at 9:00. And it'll be so cool that maybe Chet and Biff can join us soon! Anyway, do you think that Frank and Cal will be mad about tonight?" She looked at him, eyes wide, and bit her lip, genuinely concerned.

"Um… no?" Joe asked, puzzled. "About what?"

"Dinner," Vanessa replied, seriously. "The fact that I booked us at two different places." She sighed. "I guess I shouldn't have done that. A part of it is that I figured that they would want to have a laid back first night and be casual. I mean, Callie said she was fine with it, but… I don't know."

Joe stared at his girlfriend, still not understanding. Vanessa was fun and impulsive, but also really organized when it came to planning and her studies, if not her apartment. What she wasn't, normally, was a chatterbox. He didn't mind at all, but he felt like he was missing something that he should have known.

"Babe, slow down," he reassured her, gently rubbing her back. "Why are you all worked up? Relax," he went on. "We have several days here, and tonight sounds fun. I'm sure that whatever you worked out with her… Callie…" he cut in, reminding himself to be polite, "is fun. But- why _did_ you book us again at separate restaurants? I mean, it's fine, but we're all going on the tour after, so…" his voice trailed off _,_ but he gave her an encouraging smile.

Vanessa looked startled, and Joe knew something was off. "You're not serious, are you?" Vanessa asked after a moment. The hurt was apparent in her eyes.

Joe tried not to panic, wondering what he had somehow missed. As he tried to think of what to say, she spoke again, voice quiet. "You really don't know, do you?" she asked in a small voice. "I… I mean, I told you- several times- but I thought you'd remember."

"What?" he asked, totally confused. All he knew was that this vacation was off to a shaky start, and he had no idea what he'd done. "Van?" He went to touch her cheek, but she stood stiffly. When she turned around, he felt terrible at the look of disappointment and hurt on her face.

She just shook her head and forced a small smile. "Never mind," she said at last. "Maybe we should just unpack now. Our reservation is in 45 minutes." She cleared her throat. "I… I have to use the ladies room. You can start getting ready."

"Van? What did I do, babe?" he questioned, standing beside her. "Please tell me."

"Just get ready," she replied at last. "We'll… have a fun night." The pale smile was plastered to her face.

Joe saw that she wouldn't talk, and sighed inwardly. He could only hope that whatever he had done was forgivable. Vanessa wasn't normally like this. Maybe it was the stress of planning everything, or the excitement of it all. In any case, he knew he would have to try later to get her to open up. "I'll get the last suitcase in the car," he said at last. "And I'll try to look presentable for you. I was paying attention before: fancy restaurant tonight. I just got mixed up about it being the two of us."

"Are you okay with that?" Vanessa asked quietly as he turned to open the door.

Joe turned around, walked to her, and hugged her tightly. "Yeah, Van. Of course. I can't think of anything better than spending some time alone, just the two of us." Finally, he felt her relax a bit. "Okay?" he asked gently.

"Okay," she agreed, and kissed his cheek as he slowly let her go.

"Be right back," Joe reminded her as he quickly left the room to regroup and figure out what he had done.

And Vanessa, left alone for just a few minutes, quietly walked to her suitcase, opened it, and checked. Yes; it was still there. The expensive sports watch she had bought for Joe. She took out a few shirts and put them in the drawer of the dresser next to her, careful to hide it where Joe wouldn't look. It was supposed to have been a gift to celebrate their two and a half year anniversary today.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At 5:15, Frank crossed his arms as he surveyed his surroundings, impressed by the lovely room with the period details. Vanessa didn't mess around when she planned things. In many respects, she was as methodical as he was when it came to being detail -oriented. He and Callie had finished bringing in their luggage, and he had just mentally reviewed the itinerary that Vanessa had told them all about on the way here. Although he knew that Callie had the whole itinerary sent to her from Vanessa, like Joe, she was often more focused on the fun and figuring that things would work themselves out than planning everything so that they were _certain_ to work out.

She emerged from the bathroom and crossed her arms back at him, mirroring his serious expression. "I take it you've inventoried the luggage, plotted an exit route, examined the safety features of the room, and committed to memory all important numbers and addresses at this point," she teased him, a smile playing on her lips as her eyes twinkled.

Frank laughed in spite of himself, crossed the room in three long strides, and took her in his arms. "You forgot 'ordered the cleanliness report and traveler reviews'," he replied, smiling affectionately at her as he kissed her nose.

"Damn. I was so close," she answered, returning the grin as she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I love it when you're close," Frank replied huskily, as he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply.

"Me, too," she managed to respond, body tingling from his touch.

"We need to skip dinner," Frank whispered as he pulled her onto the bed beside him. Intoxicated by her perfume, the softness of her skin, the way her body felt pressed to him, he could barely concentrate.

"Baby, gotta get that," Callie moaned as she felt her cell phone buzz beside her.

Frank continued to kiss her neck and ear, making conscious thought virtually impossible.

"Hold… hold on," she whispered as she reached for the phone, more than wishing that she could toss it out the window at the moment.

She groaned as he recognized the number. "My parents," she mouthed as she went to answer apologetically. She tried to catch her breath as she pulled away from his embrace, missing the physical contact immediately. She grabbed the phone, stood up, and walked to other side of the room to answer.

Frank nodded and closed his eyes, stretching and pondering the ability of seemingly all parents to know exactly how to ruin an intimate moment. Neither he nor Callie had lived at home for two years and were completely independent, yet they both tried to maintain a closeness with their families. In fact, Frank talked with his parents at least once a week, often more with his father, with whom he discussed some current cases. But still, in matters of the heart, he'd always tried to maintain his distance with them, valuing his privacy immensely. It had been harder than ever the past two years to do so as he had worked to deal with the breakup with Callie, his own guilt, their reunion and … and everything. Before he could contemplate it further, he heard her voice getting louder and opened his eyes, sitting up.

"Fine. Okay. Yes- next week. Please. It's not like that! Dad, enough, really. I'm going to go now. Love you." She hung up the phone and turned to him, an expression on her face that he couldn't quite read.

"Cal? Are you okay?" he asked, standing up immediately.

"I'm fine. Where were we?" she asked, as she stepped into his arms and started kissing him again, but, this time, it felt wrong. Something had triggered her which happened on occasion, thankfully less and less as time went on. Frank recognized it right away, thankful that he knew her as well as himself; knew how to recognize it; how to handle it by now.

He cupped her face with his hands. "Stop, baby."

"No," she replied, uneasily, kissing him again, harder, trying to pull him to her almost frantically, needing him to cling to.

"Stop," he repeated, even more quietly.

And then she did, eyes downcast, face flushed. She didn't cry; she almost never did now. He kissed the top of her head, and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as he could without making her feel trapped. He felt her heart pounding, heard her breathing slowly quiet down. It lasted only a few moments, and then she was back with him; he felt it in her posture as she relaxed against him.

"I'm sor-" she began, but he cut her off.

"You're safe," he whispered. "Do not be sorry. Ever."

She nodded against his chest.

"Baby, remember… it is not an act of rebellion. Or hurt. Or confusion. Or pain. _Ever_. Only love," he reminded her, his heart breaking for her. "Only us. You're in control. Breathe."

Several minutes later, he spoke quietly again, still holding her, giving her strength. "What happened?" he asked.

She slowly looked up at him, and he touched her cheek gently and smiled at her.

"I don't know how much more I can take of this," she admitted weakly.

Frank led her to the bed where he sat down with her, arm firmly around her for support. He listened as he met her eyes.

"They're on my case, Frank. No matter what I say or do, they don't want me with you- especially my dad." She looked down. "He doesn't know why we broke up, but he knows I came back changed. And he-"

"Blames me," Frank finished for her.

"I can't tell them," she began, trembling again, "that it wasn't you."

"Of course not," he encouraged her, continuing to rub her waist gently. "You'll never have to do that, honey."

"He started talking about how I really need to date other people. He's upset and he's angry at me that I'm with you now. Then," she took a deep breath, "he started going off about Johnny and how he's taking advantage of me, too. His good little girl has become bad, I guess. He started talking about how I need to find a stable relationship because men can be "out for one thing" only, and no good guy will want a girl who's 'been around the block too many times' and-" she raised a shaking hand to her forehead.

"You went back there," he quickly deduced. "I know. It's okay, baby," he said, trying to keep his voice calm as he seethed internally.

She nodded, numbly. "I love my parents," she said, voice unsteady. "But they don't understand and want us apart. Your parents do, too. So does Joe. I feel like I'm trying to prove our relationship every day, Frank, and it's draining me. It hurts," she added, voice catching. "Because we've been together for so long, and we've been through so much, and you were all I wanted, even when we were separated, and I never _wanted_ to break up with you. I AM good, right?" She looked up at him, her beautiful dark eyes creased with uncertainty and pain.

God, the very fact that she asked that question tore at his heart. Frank fought tears. And horrible, unwavering guilt. "You are beyond good," was all he could manage. They were way, way past "I'm sorry."

He sat quietly and held her for a few more minutes as he collected his thoughts. He could ache for her, and he did, immeasurably so, or he could help her. The choice was clear.

"Cal," he said at last. He could see that she was calmer now, as if his embrace had somehow restored her confidence a bit. "As soon as we get back, I'll talk to your parents. I'll ask your dad, especially, to give me a chance. I will prove to him that I won't hurt you. Someday, I'm going to marry you, and I'd certainly love to have a great relationship with my in-laws."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. They'd talked about their future for years, but especially since they'd reunited, and she knew in her soul that they'd be together forever. But whenever he talked about it, actually said the words out loud, the reality became a little more tangible. And it warmed her heart; gave her strength. "Thank you. Maybe that would help," she whispered.

He continued to look into her eyes, gaze never wavering. "It WILL help," he assured her, and somehow he knew it would be true. That talk was way overdue and the very least he could do for her. "And my parents don't say anything directly to me, just so you know. But they need to know I'm not a 'play the field' guy. Why play when I have the top prize already?! I've been in love with you for six years. They just want me to be happy, and they like you- a lot. They just want to make sure that we're the real deal, and we are. And as for Joe? Give him time, baby. He knows deep down it was my fault, not yours. And you two have so much in common; you're so alike. One day you'll both realize that. I'm sure of it."

"Thank you," she repeated, and she looked at him with such love- such unwavering trust- that his heart melted.

Gently, he pulled her back on the mattress, smiling down at her as he lightly pushed an errant strand of hair back from her face. "I think we can be late for dinner," he whispered, and kissed her slowly, tenderness replacing the earlier urgency. Time seemed to freeze. "I told you," he managed, cradling him to her as the fiery passion from before gave way to a more powerful, unyielding burn, "it's an act of love. Always."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

At approximately 8:00 that night, Joe and Vanessa left the restaurant and strolled, hand in hand, back to the bed and breakfast. They were supposed to meet Frank and Callie for the ghost tour in 45 minutes, and they couldn't be late. They still had to go back and get changed into something more casual.

The restaurant had been lovely, with its dark atmosphere and soft, candlelit tables, and the food had been excellent. They'd also had a wonderful table which overlooked a portion of the older section of Gettysburg. Vanessa was acting pretty much back to normal, funny and excited, but he was determined to find out at some point what he had forgotten, just letting it go for the moment.

"You look stunning," he said to her, and he meant it. While Vanessa was always beautiful, she really looked like a supermodel this evening, and had clearly gone above and beyond, wearing a new summer, ankle length blue dress and new jewelry, makeup flawless. "I am the luckiest guy in the world," he told her.

"Yeah, I'm a catch," Vanessa agreed with a teasing smile, but she squeezed his hand. "You don't look too shabby, either," she added softly, and winked at him. He smiled and shook his head.

It was a gorgeous, cool night, darkness just descending, and Joe released her hand and slipped an arm around her waist. He stopped next to a small statue located on the sidewalk next to a series of quaint little stores, their own lodging located less than twenty minutes away. "Thank you for tonight," he told her, sincerely, meeting her eyes. "I should be the one making these romantic dates, not you, babe. You're pretty amazing. I'm sorry for whatever I did- really- and I love you. I promise I'll figure it out if you don't want to tell me, but I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Oh, Joe," she began, "I-"

She was cut off by a series of shrill screaming and calls of "Help me!" nearby.

She and Joe jumped apart, and, before she could stop him, he had run off in the direction of the noises.

"Joe! Wait!" Vanessa called after him, but he had disappeared into the darkness as the agonizing screams continued.

And just like that...he was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** _A day early, just because! :) Thanks to all those reading and following. The issue of the 2.5 year anniversary will be addressed soon. Special thanks to those who left reviews, including EvergreenDreamweaver, DrumBoy100, Paulina Ann, max 2013, TinDog, Erin Jordan, Caranath, bmsh, hbndgirl, and sm2003495. You are all very appreciated!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 3

Joe ran as quickly as he could in the direction of the scream. Despite the fact that it was the night before the anniversary of the battle, the streets were relatively quiet and deserted, the much larger crowd expected early tomorrow. He caught his breath as he surveyed his surroundings, listening again for the scream which had suddenly gone silent.

A moment later, he heard a sound behind him and whirled around, ready to confront his attacker, only to be faced with a startled Vanessa. "There you are!" she began. "Do you know how hard it is to run in heels?" she asked, gasping for breath.

Joe shook his head. "Yeah, babe. I do it every other day," he replied, rolling his eyes. He placed a finger to his lips before speaking in a whisper. "I wish you would have stayed behind, but now that you're here- see if you can listen for -"

Again, out of the night, a piercing scream for help rang out. Grabbing Vanessa's hand, he ran with her towards the sound.

"There! It sounds like it's coming through that window!" he exclaimed, and Vanessa gasped.

Joe ran down the street past several storefronts, until he reached what looked to be an old bookstore based on the window display. Quickly, he surveyed the scene, half recognizing the name of "Nellie's Novels and Novelties" that he had passed earlier with Vanessa. The scream rang out again.

"Van! Can you see anything?" he asked. "Hello? Hello?" he called into a window that was open a crack.

"Joe! Oh my God! Look!" Vanessa cried out, as she peered into the darkness of the store. "I think I see someone!"

Joe raised his hands above his eyes and squinted into the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but, when they did, he froze. It all happened so quickly. A figure in a dark cape of the time period was attacking another dark figure, also in a cape, with what appeared to be a sword! The attacker looked up in shadows, and then, to Joe and Vanessa's horror, they watched as a sharp object descended and a final scream rang out. The attacker appeared to look directly at Joe and Vanessa, and then turned and ran in the opposite direction in the store.

Running to the front of the store, Joe quickly realized that he couldn't kick in the door or the window, as both were gated. He grabbed the bars to see if they were loose and shook them, but to no avail. "Damnit," he muttered under his breath.

He ran back to the window, where Vanessa still stood, horrified, and looked inside at the figure on the floor in the distance. "Van, call 9-1-1. Now!" he commanded, more forcefully than he intended to.

"I'm going after the guy," he huffed as he sprinted towards an alley. Running quickly to the back of the store, he could see right away that the rear door was thrown open. He didn't have time to check on the woman. If Vanessa had called 9-1-1, help would be arriving any moment. Quickly, he looked down in the dark, searching for anything to suggest which way the assailant had fled. But, as he turned around, the night was deadly calm, and, he realized as the adrenaline started to die down, it would be pretty foolish to head after a possibly armed criminal in the darkness.

A criminal who had looked up… and had seen him. And Vanessa.

The thought was enough to calm him as he got his bearings and headed back to the storefront to make sure Vanessa was okay. In the distance, he heard sirens.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two hours later, Joe and Vanessa had finished being questioned by the Gettysburg police chief, and had been told not to leave town, since they were the primary witnesses of the attack. They had both related their stories several times, and found out that the woman who had been attacked, Nellie Pabst, was a co-owner of the bookstore with her husband, Archie. She was in serious condition at the local hospital, and the police would be questioning her first thing tomorrow. Finally, close to 10:30, Joe and Vanessa were free to go with a strong warning that they would be called upon soon again, and one of the officers drove them back to their lodging.

"That was a hell of a night," Joe said to Vanessa as they entered their room. "How are you holding up?" he asked her, genuinely concerned. Vanessa had been a trooper all day, but he could see how terrified she had been. He reached for her hand as she sat down on an antique chair, and knelt beside her.

She took a deep breath. They had been separated at the station, unable to talk, really, and she'd been far more scared than she would have liked to admit. "I… I guess I'm okay," she answered shakily. "I just keep seeing that poor woman get hurt and then I flash to that face in the shadows looking in our direction." She shivered.

"I know, babe," he replied, understanding. "Sometimes I forget that you're not used to all of this. Once in a while, me or Frank will tell you a little about what we see all the time, but we generally keep the nitty gritty stuff to ourselves. I'm sorry you had to see that. I know how much you were looking forward to this vacation, and I feel bad that you've been through this."

Vanessa nodded weakly. "Are _you_ okay?" she asked him, squeezing his hand. "The police must have asked you the same questions they asked me, but I didn't have a lot to go on. I just kept repeating myself."

Joe stood up and motioned for her to stand beside him. When she did, he hugged her gently to him. "They do that," he said to her, running his fingers through her hair. "They want to make sure that you're telling the truth." His mind flashed back to a case, years ago, when his former girlfriend had had a very similar reaction to Vanessa. Almost by instinct, he started to tell her about it. "Iol-" he began, but stopped at once, pursing his lips when he realized what he'd said. Why had he said that? Why was he thinking of her now?

"What?" Vanessa asked, pulling back.

Recovering quickly, he stated, " _I owe_ you an explanation," he covered, quickly. "For, uh, why I yelled earlier," he rambled, thinking on the spot. "I guess I was just so focused on finding the perp that I couldn't worry about the victim. Thanks for thinking so quickly for me and for calling the police and ambulances. You may have saved that woman's life."

"Okay," Vanessa said at last, shaking her head. She was exhausted and had a headache; was scared about the events of the night and still disappointed in Joe's forgetfulness. She normally would have called him on his crappy lie- why had he mentioned Iola?!, but she didn't have the wherewithal tonight. Tomorrow might be a different story.

"I have to get changed," she said, simply, and he nodded, kissing her head.

"Okay, babe," he said ruefully. "Me, too. It's been a long night."

Vanessa broke free of his embrace, giving him a small smile. As she turned to get her things, she glanced at her watch and gasped. "Oh no!" she groaned, the night getting worse and worse.

"What?" Joe asked, startled. "Are you okay?"

Vanessa sighed heavily. "Yeah. But Frank and Callie might want to know why we didn't show up for the ghost tour."

Joe felt his eyes grow wide. "Oh, man." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Sure enough, there had to be at least five or six texts from his brother, asking where he was and if he was okay. Taking a cue from Joe, Vanessa reached into her purse and saw similar texts from Callie.

"Well, at least they went on the tour," Vanessa said at last. "I can't believe I forgot to call them."

"I've got it, babe," Joe replied heavily. "Go on. Get ready for bed. You need to rest."

"Thanks," she replied, as she turned back towards the bathroom.

Wearily, Joe looked again at his phone, typed a message, and hit "SEND."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where are they?" Frank asked Callie in a low voice. It was 9:05, and the tour would be starting any minute. Joe and Vanessa should have met them close to twenty minutes ago, and he'd already texted Joe three times.

Callie looked around at the surrounding crowd and frowned. "I don't know, honey. I texted Vanessa, too, and I haven't heard back from her, either."

Frank checked his watch again and ran a hand through his hair, sighing. "Maybe I should check."

Callie felt a small smile tug at her lips as she looked up at him and took his hand in her own.

"What?" he asked her. "You think I'm over-reacting?" He raised his brows.

"No," she replied carefully. "Not necessarily. God knows that Joe finds trouble. It's just that…" she paused, then let out a small laugh. "I mean, it's their anniversary tonight- two and a half years- and I could see them potentially getting distracted, if you know what I mean."

"It is?" Frank asked, surprised. "Joe never mentioned that."

Callie gave him a questioning glance. "Well, that's more mysterious than their no-show tonight," she quipped lightly. "I know Vanessa was looking forward to tonight. That's why she planned the nice, romantic dinner with Joe."

"Hmmm," Frank responded. Then he let out a small chuckle as he stomach growled. "Ah, dinner. Yeah, I miss food."

Callie blushed and bit her lip. "Oh, I don't know," she said breezily. "I didn't mind missing the meal so much."

Frank slipped an arm around her waist and looked into her eyes. "Tell ya what. After this tour, we'll get a light meal- something- and then…" he whispered in her ear, "wait til you get dessert."

Callie blushed even more and rolled her eyes, smiling as Frank kissed her cheek.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the tour is about to start. Please. Gather around," an older gentleman called out to the crowd.

Callie took out her phone again. "Nothing," she said in a soft voice to Frank. "Are you worried? You can check it out. I just think it'd be odd that BOTH of them aren't answering their phones, which leads me to believe that they're most likely okay."

"You're probably right," Frank admitted. "Want to stay here for the tour, then? I wouldn't even know where to start to look for them anyway- well, other than the obvious, and, if you're right, that is NOT something I want to walk in on accidentally." He shuddered.

Callie giggled. "Seriously!" she agreed. "But if Van couldn't make it, I'm sure she'd want to know what she missed. Let's get some stories for her and tell her what we found. Maybe she can book another tour in the next few days and compare info."

"Okay. Sounds good," Frank replied, and reached for her hand as they began the two hour walking tour.

Frank found himself far more interested than he would have thought, and, as he glanced at his girlfriend, he could see that the tour was having the same effect on her. Their guide was excellent, weaving tale after tale and answering the numerous questions from the large group. One place and story was literally more haunting than the next. The group traveled up and down the backstreets of Gettysburg proper, and visited a few of the homes, churches, and schools that were supposedly surrounded by spirits of all kinds: some gentle, some angry, some just lost. The guide even mentioned a tour on July 2nd that would involve a campout overnight near Devil's Den that, he cautioned, was not "for the weak of heart," and Frank made a mental note to tell Vanessa about it. Even though he didn't personally believe in ghosts, he had fun listening to the stories, and he knew that Callie, who had a tendency to trust more in inexplicable things like this, was completely captivated.

At 10:30, on the way back to the tour center, the guide stopped the group. Frank looked up at the large cobblestone building in front of him. There was something grand about it, as if it had borne witness to much in its existence. "Isn't it lovely?" Callie whispered to him, holding onto his arm as if she felt a chill. He looked down at her and slipped his arm around her shoulders, warming her.

"It is," he replied softly. "You okay? Are you cold?" The temperature had been dropping as night had descended, but her reaction, and the reaction, it seemed, of many people in the crowd, seemed to suggest another kind of chill altogether.

"Yeah. I'm fine," she replied in a low voice, but snuggled closer to him nonetheless. He hugged her gently.

"Now, we've come to a real treat," he began jovially. "The wonderful Smytheville Inn has been around since prior to the battle, and still remains open today as one of the most exclusive bed and breakfasts in all of Gettysburg and the surrounding areas. It was an important building during the war, serving as a temporary hospital for soldiers who had been injured in battle. Now, ordinarily we wouldn't stop here, because the building, though historic, hasn't exactly been known for hauntings. But some people claim that that's started to change."

"Why?" Frank found himself asking, curious.

"I was just about to explain, young man," he answered, affably. "You see, last year was one of the major milestones of Gettysburg, 145 years since the battle. At that time, strange happenings were reported here. The owners are real sensitive about it, think its bad publicity for the place, and maybe it is. But it sure is fascinating."

"What kinds of things?" a young boy of about fourteen asked.

The guide smiled. "Well, some people say that the temperature started changing when people walk by, as if there're spirits around all of a sudden."

There were several gasps from the audience, and Frank suppressed a smile as he felt Callie move even closer to him. The story might be nonsense, but at least it had its benefits!

"And that's not all," the guide, Jerry, went on. "Some people say that they hear screams in the middle of the night, or creaking on the stairs. Others claim that they hear the moans of the wounded, and still others claim to have seen things physically blown off shelves, lights flickering, spirits actually touching them as they sleep."

"Is that true?" an older woman asked, captivated.

"Who can tell?" the guide replied as he shrugged. "But I CAN tell you this. A whole lotta people are starting to get scared, because, since last year, this place has become a hotspot for ghost hunters and the like, and people claim that they're actually getting hurt, that the spirits of the night are out for revenge."

Frank tried not to roll his eyes as he noticed how worried the crowd looked. He could tell that Callie was totally enthralled with this legend as well.

"And that's not the worst of it," the guide went on. "This year, on January 1, New Year's day, six months after the anniversary of the first day of the battle- a woman actually died under mysterious circumstances. People say she was perfectly healthy until she saw- well, a ghost- and rumor has it that the ghost soldier sucked the very spirit out of her. She never made it out."

Several crowd members started talking as the guide tried to calm them, reminding them that the tour would be ending very soon.

Frank felt his phone buzz and pulled it out, releasing a breath of relief when he realized it was from his brother. " _Sry didnt txt b4. All gd. Hve bg stry 4 u. Stp by tmrw mrn. Cll 1st."_

Callie, curious, stopped him briefly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I heard from Joe." He showed her the phone. "What do you make of this?"

"Either Joe stopped believing in vowels or he missed kindergarten spelling," she replied with a small smile.

Frank chuckled as they watched the group start to settle down. "I'm just glad he's okay," he responded.

"Me, too," she admitted.

As Frank was about to reply, all of a sudden, loud screams pierced through the air as the sound of gunfire blasted out through the two of the top story windows and glass shattered. Before he could process what was happening, a huge section of scaffolding, that had been set up on the front of the home, ostensibly for repairs, started to crash down and headed right at the crowd, breaking apart on the way down.

Frank instinctively pushed Callie out of the way before her felt something smash into the side of his head, and then all went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** _Thank you to all those following and to those who left reviews, which always make my day: Barb, TinDog, Drumboy100, Caranath, hlahabibty, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, hbndgirl, max2013, Paulina Ann, BeeBee18, sm2003495, and Erin Jordan._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 4

"How are you holding up?" Joe asked with concern as he helped Frank into his room. He had his arm around his brother's waist as he opened the door for him and ushered him inside.

Frank sat down and rested his head on his hand, leaning against a small table. "I'm okay," Frank muttered and closed his eyes. "Where's Cal again?"

Joe shook his head and sighed, worried that his brother was still disoriented. "She's getting ice for you. You'll need it. Believe me." He squeezed Frank's shoulder in comfort.

Frank weakly nodded.

"Rest, okay? I'll get the story from Callie and I'll stay with you tonight. Callie can stay with Vanessa."

He glanced at his watch- 1:00 a.m. Two hours ago, he had received a frantic phone call from Callie telling him that Frank had been hurt, knocked unconscious, as they were attending the ghost tour. Apparently, there had been a major accident where, after some sort of exploding glass, scaffolding had come loose, and several tourists had been injured. When Frank had finally regained consciousness, he had refused to go to the hospital, but was in no shape to be walking the forty minutes back to the bed and breakfast. So, as soon as he received the call, with Vanessa still fast asleep, he headed out immediately, picked them up, and had just arrived back.

Callie appeared at the door, two cups of ice in her hands. "Here you go," she said to Joe. "How can I help?" She placed the ice on the tables, her eyes expressing her deep concern. She gently rubbed Frank's back.

Joe immediately ran to the bathroom, took some washcloths, dumped the ice inside, and made a makeshift cold compress for Frank, who pressed it to his head and cheek. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"Callie," Joe stated, calmly, "I'm going to help Frank get cleaned up a bit, make sure he's okay, and get him to bed. Grab some things and go to my room with Vanessa. She's sleeping now. I need to keep an eye on Frank and make sure he doesn't have a concussion."

Callie looked at him, and he saw how worried she was. The whole way back to the lodging, she had been calm and comforting to Frank; Joe had to admit that. And she was quiet, stoic almost, doing what she had to do to get Frank help. If he was being honest with himself, Callie was surprising him, but Callie was not on his mind; Frank was.

"O… okay," Callie managed. "If you think that's best."

"And I need to talk to you in a few minutes. Can you meet me outside by my room? I want to go over a few things," he added.

"Sure," Callie agreed quietly, finally leaving Frank's side to grab some things for the night as he rested. She picked up a small bag, took a brief moment to touch Frank's hand gently, and then walked out of the room. Joe studied his brother carefully.

Finally, Frank opened his eyes. He looked exhausted, the right side of his face swollen from falling debris. "Wait. What's going on?" he mumbled. "Sorry. It's been hard to think."

Joe sat next to him and slowly repeated the plan. "And then I'll talk to you about everything that's happened in the morning. It seems as if the two of us have had eventful nights."

"You, too?" Frank questioned, confused. "Wha- what happened to you? I- what happened to _me_?"

Joe laughed in spite of himself. "This is exactly why I'm staying here."

Frank took a deep breath and winced a bit, groaning slightly. He stood unsteadily, and Joe was at his side at once. "Whoa! Sit down, bro. Too soon."

Frank obeyed reluctantly. "Where's Callie?" he asked again.

Joe sighed, trying to be patient. Frank looked terrible and he was worried about him. "Outside," he replied. "I'm going to talk to her in a few minutes."

"I…" Frank began, but Joe interrupted him.

"Can you get into bed all right?"Joe asked.

Frank looked up. "Yeah," he replied, squinting. "I think so."

Joe patted him gently on the shoulder. "Good. I'll be back in ten minutes, okay?"

Frank nodded and Joe made sure that he was at least semi-stable before getting up himself and heading around to the opposite side of the building to his own room. It wasn't long before he saw Callie, rubbing her arms, trying to stay warm, as she stared almost blankly at the open battlefield in front of her.

Very quietly, he made his way over, wondering when this night was going to end. First Vanessa had been mad at him, then he'd witnessed a murder attempt and had been questioned for hours, then he'd received the unexpected call from Callie telling him that Frank had been hurt, and now he needed to ask Callie again about what had happened while it was still fresh in her mind. And, he had to admit wryly, going on a vacation with his girlfriend yet spending the first night in bed with his brother was a rather unfortunate turn of events.

As tired as he was, he looked at Callie and an idea emerged. He felt a smile creep to his face as an idea occurred to him. It was stupid, he knew, but at least he could have a little fun. They were on a haunted battlefield, after all. Keeping as quiet as he could, he snuck up to Callie and grabbed her from behind. "Boo!" he called, pulling her to him and holding her arms back tightly as she cried out and struggled. "You will pay for being a bad girl," he whispered creepily before laughing and quickly releasing her.

But when she turned around, the smile fell from his face. She was totally pale, gasping for breath, arms in front of her face as she hunched into herself, shaking.

"Callie?" he said at once. He stood in front of her, at a total loss of what to do. "It's just me. Hey, are you okay?" he asked, and reached for her arm. "I'm sorry. It was a joke."

To his shock, Callie almost stumbled back as he went to grab her. She looked terrified.

"Callie. What's the matter? Stop. It's me." He felt terrible. He'd just wanted to get on her case a bit; they'd always rib each other on any given occasion.

"I don't feel good," she managed, face white. And, before he knew it, she turned and ran in the direction from which he just came, disappearing from view.

"Callie! Callie!" he called out after her before he grunted in frustration and hit the wall. He looked down, and saw her abandoned bag, which he picked up and pushed close to the door outside his and Vanessa's room. What the hell had just happened? Why had Callie freaked out? He'd only been with her ten or fifteen seconds.

A half hour later, at almost 2:00, he had searched all over the lodging. He had no choice but to return to Frank's room, wondering what the hell he was going to say to Frank or do next. To his shock, Frank opened the door and looked considerably more aware than he had been before.

He stepped outside.

"Frank," Joe began, but stopped when Frank shook his head.

"She's with me," he said quietly.

Joe let out a breath of relief. "I'm sorry, Frank," he said at last. "It was a joke. I honestly didn't expect her to react like that. Are you okay? You should be sleeping." He felt uncomfortable.

"I'll talk to you in the morning," Frank replied quietly. "We can go over the cases."

"Cases?" Joe asked, puzzled.

"You said you had one to talk about. I'm not letting go what happened to me," Frank replied evenly.

"Okay," Joe replied at last. "You… you look a little better."

Frank smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry I scared Callie," Joe said quietly.

"She's sleeping," Frank answered. "Change of plans. She's staying with me. I'm okay. Good night, Joe. I'll see you as soon as I get up."

"Night," Joe responded at last, right before Frank closed the door.

Frank fought the pounding headache and neck and face pain that had ceased to matter in the past hour, and made his way to the bed, where he gently pulled a decidedly _not_ sleeping and still trembling Callie into his arms and held her close, offering her comfort and protection.

And Joe, who had finally made his way back to his room, sat on a chair, completely awake himself, and wondered just how everything had gone so wrong, so quickly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At noon the next day, Vanessa reached for a sip of iced tea and took a bite of her turkey sandwich as she looked across the table at Callie, who was distractedly picking at her salad. It was a beautiful day, and she and Callie were sitting at a lovely little cafe table outside that overlooked a quaint courtyard. They were due at the dress shop in an hour, and she was excited to see exactly what the owner had picked out for her and Callie, and to check out the boys' uniforms as well for the ball on July 3rd. Despite the ugliness of yesterday, she had hope that things could still work out, and that somehow they could salvage this vacation. Still, she did have a lot on her mind.

"How are you doing, Cal? Is Frank feeling better today?" she asked. She had seen Joe for a short while this morning, and he had been exhausted and distracted. He'd briefly filled her in on what had happened last night, and told her that he'd be spending the day with his brother until they'd all meet up again for dinner. Although Frank's health was his first priority, she knew that he was itching to investigate what they'd seen last night and speak to his brother about it.

Callie looked up and gave a half smile. "Yeah, he is. Thanks. He still has a pretty bad headache, and he's sore, but he'll be okay, thank God. That could have been a heck of a lot worse," she answered, shivering slightly.

Vanessa looked at her sympathetically. "It sure could have," she agreed. "That must have been so scary!" Callie had filled her in on what had happened in good detail as they had strolled to lunch, and she was horrified by what had happened; what could have happened. "Do you think there's anything to it?" Vanessa asked, curious.

Callie raised her brows. "What do you mean?" she inquired.

"You know," Vanessa leaned in, eyes bright. "About the ghost part of it."

Callie let out a small laugh before answering as she stirred the straw in her lemon water. "Well," she answered slowly, "if you ask our boyfriends, they'd say no. You're pretty practical, so I'm sure you'd say no. Me? Logic tells me of course not, but- I don't know. I mean, not to use a double negative here, but I don't NOT believe, you know?" She shrugged her shoulders. "But if there are ghosts at that place-they're pretty angry!"

Vanessa smiled at her friend. "You're right; I don't believe," she replied, "but I am interested in analyzing the scientific data available by assessing the wavelengths of the white noise and the frequency of the…"

"Stop," Callie cut her off with a laugh."You lost me at white noise."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Okay," she answered. "You really hate science and computer stuff that much, I know! You know what's weird?" she asked.

"Any number of things," Callie replied, taking another bite of her salad.

"Whatever," Vanessa replied lightly. "Joe believes. Frank would make fun of him so much if he knew, but he has a sensitivity for things like this. I think he's in touch with spiritual ideas, even though he pretends that he's not."

Callie frowned slightly and couldn't help but reply, "When I think of Joe, 'sensitive' isn't the first word that comes to mind," she grumbled.

"Oh, Cal," Vanessa exclaimed, reaching out to cover Callie's hand with her own. "He told me that you freaked out last night when he snuck up on you. He actually feels really bad about that. I know you guys aren't exactly best friends, but he'd never try to really scare you. Please forgive him for that."

Vanessa was shocked when she saw the color rise to Callie's face, and to see Callie blinking back tears. "Wow," Vanessa said quietly, rubbing Callie's hand. "You're still upset, aren't you? Cal, I'm sorry."

Finally Callie looked up and gave her a small smile. "I'll be okay," she said, her voice unsteady.

"Joe was just being silly," Vanessa responded, "but I don't think he took into account how tired and upset about Frank and stressed out you were."

Callie nodded. "Yeah. That must have been it," she said in a low voice. Gently pulling her hand from Vanessa's, she changed the subject. "Anyway, how was your anniversary? Did Joe like your gift?" she asked.

Vanessa's face darkened. "Well, we witnessed an attack, which was awful and scary. So that was an omen of the night. Our anniversary? He forgot," she said, simply.

Callie's mouth fell open. "No way!" she exclaimed, surprised. "Frank mentioned that Joe hadn't talked about it, and Frank didn't know. That's awful. What a horrible night for you, for so many reasons."

"Yup," Vanessa answered with a sigh. "Maybe you were right. 'Sensitive' isn't the best description for him."

"Oh, Van. I'm so sorry. I know you were excited," Callie sympathized.

Vanessa felt tears spring to her eyes, and dabbed at them with a napkin. "Sometimes I think I fight harder for us than he does," she admitted. She needed to get this out or it would eat at her, and there was no one she trusted more than Callie… other than Joe.

"Why do you say that?" Callie asked, carefully neutral, trying to listen.

"Cal, I love him," Vanessa replied, sniffling a bit. "I love him so much. He's the first man -the only man- I've ever loved. Well, other than Johnny," she managed to joke, referring to her tremendous crush on Callie's gorgeous best friend.

Callie smiled."Go on," she encouraged her.

"He's kind and funny and thoughtful and spontaneous and handsome and…" Vanessa listed.

"I get it," Callie cut in. "But explain why you're concerned."

Vanessa looked in the distance, trying to articulate her thoughts clearly. "He forgot our anniversary," she said softly.

Callie sighed. Why was she about to defend Joe? He'd been nothing but a pain in the butt to her for years. He didn't seem to like her much. Sure, they'd had moments- some really good moments, actually- but he would rather have seen Frank with someone else, and that hurt deeply. Still. "I'm going to play Devil's advocate," she said at last. "You planned the trip. There're a million things going on. Not everyone celebrates half- year anniversaries."

Vanessa looked surprised. "Don't you?" she asked. "We do. We did for the six month and year and a half one. Anyway," she went on, reflective, "I know it might sound silly, and ordinarily I wouldn't have cared. But HE brought it up, Cal. It was Joe's idea alone to celebrate the six month mark. He told me that he wanted us to be special and different. So when he got excited about it, I did too, and it started to mean something to me as well. Does that make sense?"

Callie nodded her head. "I suppose I can see your logic. With us, October 15th was our first date, and once a year we celebrate it-in the rare event that we're even together. He always calls or gets me on FaceTime, though! Try not to be jealous!" she chuckled. "Anyway, okay. So he forgot- does he forget things a lot?"

Vanessa looked thoughtful. "No. He's actually very romantic," she said quietly. "But sometimes he pulls back. I can feel it. I just look in his eyes and I can see that he WANTS to say or do or show something, but he stops himself."

"Such as?" Callie asked.

Vanessa blushed. "I don't know. Little things. He's held back on knowing my extended family. He gets along well with my mom, but it took forever for him to meet her. I thought… I mean…"

"What, Van?" Callie asked softly.

"I thought that maybe he'd ask me to move in," she admitted softly. "I feel kind of foolish now."

"Frank and I don't live together," Callie responded, trying to be supportive.

"That's different, and you know it," Vanessa answered sadly. "You go to college across the country. I'm sure as soon as you come back here, Frank will want to move in with you. He adores you. Joe and I go to the same college, for Pete's sake. There's no reason at all not to move in. I mean, my roommate is nice and all, but you'd think I was … cuter than Biff!"

Callie laughed. "Biff's cute!" she teased. "But maybe Joe just needs more time, Van. At least the Hardys love you; your mom thinks Joe is great. For me, it's a different scenario altogether; it's an uphill battle back. All I have is Frank."

Vanessa smiled softly. "He's more than enough, Cal. He really loves you so much, and you guys can conquer anything. You've never been in competition with him over anyone or anything."

"Really?" Callie asked, pointedly. "Because if memory serves me correct, a certain redheaded detective provided good enough competition that… well, you know. And I know that you know, by the way. I assume Joe told you."

"I'm sorry," she admitted. "Yeah, I knew. But I'm in competition with a ghost."

"What?" Callie asked, confused.

"Iola," Vanessa replied with a sigh. "He said her name last night. He covered for it, but he did; I heard it. The great love of his life, right? The girl I never knew. I don't know if he'll ever get past her enough to really love and commit to me. She's perfect in his eyes. I'm… I'm REAL, which means I have flaws and all. I tell it like it is. I call him on his crap. I'm not afraid to argue with him. Maybe I should be, and be shy and retiring and submissive, like I imagine SHE was. Then, maybe he'd love me more."

Callie sighed deeply before answering. She saw how upset Vanessa had become, and there was no simple answer. "Vanessa," she began, directly, "Iola Morton was none of the things you said. She was an outgoing cheerleader and she was a spitfire. She was also one of my best friends. And you want the truth? The thing no one will talk about? Joe was a major pain in the ass even with her, but, moreso, he was a relentless flirt- I'm sure you know he feels guilt about that even now. He was immature and kind of reckless. But so was Iola! They were amazing and awful at the same time, and honestly? Who knows if they would have lasted together. You and Joe are different. You have a lot of similar qualities, but you have enough different ones to make it interesting and 'real', to use your word. You have intellectual discussions; you see the future where he sees the present; you make his craziness just sane enough to work. But Joe- he needs patience. I just … I know." _Because when the Hardys feel guilt about something, they just can't let go._

"Do you think we'll make it?" Vanessa asked shakily. "Because this is really hard for me and I don't know how much more patient I can be."

Callie considered her words before answering. "When you love someone, Vanessa, there's no limit to the level of patience you can show," she said, feeling the catch in her throat.

Vanessa smiled at last. "Thanks, Cal. Maybe you're right. I just wonder-maybe if I helped Joe on this case and he saw that I could be a competent investigator, too, that'd make him see me in a different light."

"Oh, no," Callie replied, shaking her head. "THAT is a bad idea. No way."

"Why not?" Vanessa asked, defiantly. "I mean, I'm involved already. Maybe I could just do a little sleuthing myself. What could it hurt? Want to help me?"

Callie groaned and raised her hands to her head. "No, I don't. Last time I got involved- unintentionally- it did not end well."

"This is nothing like that," Vanessa countered. "Come on. Please."

Callie shook her head. "No. I promised Joe last time that I was done with this."

"Callie Shaw!" Vanessa exclaimed. "I can't believe you, of all people, are declining a case because of a conversation in a hospital you had with my boyfriend!"

"I gave my word," Callie replied, tense. "That means something to me. Promise me you won't get involved, Vanessa. Please. Joe and Frank will flip out."

"Fine," Vanessa grumbled at last. "But if information _happens_ to fall in my lap, if I _happen_ to find some data from the confines of my computer that should be explored, and I _happen_ to mention it to the guys…"

"I _happen_ to give up," Callie replied with a groan, and geared up for battle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** _My posting schedule may alter slightly soon and I may post three chapters weekly instead of two. Thank you very much to those of you following and taking the time to leave reviews, including Drumboy100, TinDog, MooninScorpio, BMSH, Caranath, BeeBee18, hlahabibty, sm2003495, Paulina Ann, Erin Jordan, EvergrreenDreamweaver, max 2013, and Hero 76. They always make my day and I love hearing what everyone thinks!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 5

"How are you feeling?" Joe asked Frank as he bit into a hamburger at Friendly's, which oddly was located at the edge of the town.* "You still look like hell."

Frank shook his head and offered a small smile before he took a sip of soda. "At least I'll be the more authentic one in two days."

Joe raised his brows. ""What do you mean?"

"At the ball. I'll be the injured soldier who has survived the battle. You're the wimp commander hanging out in the tent and giving orders, perfectly put together out of the line of danger." The smile remained on his face.

Joe chuckled and then sighed. "That damned ball. Who the hell wants to go to one of these things? I don't get re-enactors. It's so weird. Hanging out in a tent all day with no tv or internet and pretending that it's the past- not cool."

Frank shrugged. "It's not so bad. Sometimes the living history exhibits are pretty interesting. And it's nice to talk to people who are interested in the same things that you are. You'd be in your glory at a motorcycle exhibit."

"I wouldn't pretend to be the freaking iron welders who made the parts!" Joe retorted.

Frank laughed before raising a hand to his head again. "Ugh," he groaned. "This sucks."

Joe reached over to steal some of Frank's fries. "You probably need some rest. I won't keep you out too late today- promise. I just need to go over a few things with you."

"Okay," Frank answered, taking another slow slip of his soda. "So what happened to you yesterday? I was kind of preoccupied."

"You won't believe this," Joe replied, and launched into the whole story. He ended with, "So, if you can, I thought you'd like to come with me back to the station today and see if there have been any more developments. Maybe we can even find out more about the victim- her name is Nellie Pabst. I hope she's okay. A hospital visit may even be in order. The girls are walking around town today and, I think, taking some sort of bus tour of the battlefield, so we have the car. Are you game?"

Frank was quiet for a moment, thinking. "Yeah, sure," he replied. "Okay. But you stopped when you were telling me the part about the guy looking at you and Vanessa. Why?"

"I did?" Joe asked, surprised that Frank could pick up on that.

"Yup," Frank replied. "So what's bothering you?"

Joe grabbed more of Frank's fries before answering. "I don't know. I can't even explain it. Something- I'm not sure. Something just felt off." He reached again for Frank's fries before Frank swatted his hand away.

"Stop!" Frank exclaimed. "Damn, Joe. You've already had two lunches and half of mine. I didn't even get dinner last night. I'm hungry."

"Why didn't you eat dinner?" he asked, but, as he looked at Frank's blush and realization dawned on him, his face scrunched in disgust. "Ugh! Never freaking mind! I think I lost my appetite!"

"Shut up," Frank mumbled. "Anyway, what do you mean about yesterday something was off?" he went on, before he could get redder. "Is it that you couldn't pursue the guy? That he looked up at you? That you couldn't get to the victim? Maybe having Vanessa with you distracted you?"

Joe couldn't help himself. "Apparently not as much as Callie distracted _you,_ " he replied with a smirk. "And I don't know. Something just feels off about it. Maybe you can help me figure it out."

Frank simply sighed whilst Joe laughed.

"Listen," Frank replied, suddenly serious. "You need to lay off with Callie, okay? Do me a favor. TRY to get along with her."

Joe quieted down a bit. "I'm sorry about last night- really. I was just kidding. She started freaking out. I guess she must have had a lot on her mind with everything that went down last night. I hope she's not too pissed."

"She's not 'pissed', Joe," Frank answered quietly after a minute. "You scared her. Just... be careful with her. Please."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Callie can take care of herself just fine," he retorted. "She hates me, and she makes no bones about being independent and…"

"Stop," Frank cut him off, and Joe stopped, seeing that Frank appeared upset.

"Leave her alone," Frank said, complete seriousness in his eyes. "She does _not_ hate you. She likes you, and she wants you to like her."

"I-" Joe started to say, but again stopped when he saw how adamant Frank was being. He looked hurt and deadly serious.

"I'm going to tell you this once. Now," Frank began, looking right into Joe's eyes with an intensity Joe wasn't used to. "It's time to stop the nonsense. I know you were there for me when Callie and I broke up. I am grateful that you have always supported me and I won't ever forget how you helped me through that time. Know that. But stop pretending- we broke up and it was _my_ fault. Period. Not Callie's."

Joe went to reply, but Frank held up his hand. "Joe, I love her. And even though this isn't exactly the most opportune moment to tell you this, I'm going to ask her to marry me in the next year or two. So Callie is going to be your sister-in-law one day, and it'll be your job to protect her and to love her and to take care of her as I know you can. And that means knocking this crap off with her. It's so- _frustrating_ \- that you're both so alike but neither of you can get past whatever is separating you. Do it. Now. This trip. Because you're going to be stuck with each other for the rest of your lives."

Joe literally couldn't speak for a minute; felt his mouth drop open. Finally, he found his voice. "You're actually serious, aren't you?" he asked, in a voice far more gentle than he would have expected.

"I am," Frank replied, his expression softening. "Completely."

"You know- you absolutely know- that she's the one?" he asked, actually listening to his brother, his best friend, realizing that he was being completely open and vulnerable, not like his normally reserved and private self.

"I've always known, Joe." Frank gave a small smile.

"How?" he asked. "How do you know?" This conversation was affecting him deeply on many levels, most of which he couldn't fully process; not yet. It was a mixture of shock and sadness and happiness and denial, with a strong dose of Iola, of Vanessa, fighting in his mind.

"When you know, you know," Frank said simply, looking down.

 _Is that true?_ Joe had to ask himself. Then why don't _I know? Or do I? Should I?_ Thoughts were whirling in his mind.

After several minutes, Joe stood up, took out some money, and threw it on the table to pay the bill. Frank followed. As they made their way to the car, Joe impulsively reached around and hugged his brother tightly. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I need to figure this out, but I'm going to try, okay?"

Frank hugged him back. "Thank you," he replied, and Joe could hear the relief in his voice.

Still holding onto his brother, Joe grappled with his emotions, knowing he would need some time and space to work on whatever his issue had been and continued to be with Callie; to grasp that his brother was really going to be getting engaged in the not so distant future to a girl who really remained, on many levels, a mystery to him; to understand what this meant for his own future with Vanessa as he tried to deal with the ghosts of his past.

"Come on," he said at last, pulling away and turning to the parking lot. "Let's go deal with a murder. It's a lot less complicated than this relationship bullshit."

He smiled to himself, hearing Frank laugh behind him as he headed to the car.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So, she's okay then?" Joe asked Chief Cruz, an hour or so after they had arrived at the police station.

"So far," the chief responded, closing the file as he sat behind his desk. "She was stabbed three times, but the wounds were relatively superficial. Her screaming must have been more shock than anything else. She'll certainly live," he concluded. "Listen, boys," he said carefully to Frank and Joe, "I know who your father is, which is the only reason that you've gotten this much information from me at all. But I'll be honest…" he paused for a moment, contemplating how much he should say.

"Go on," Joe encouraged. He was sitting on the opposite side of the desk with Frank, who was starting to look a little worse as the day went on. He made a mental note to make sure that his brother could get some rest before dinner that evening.

Chief Cruz looked around surreptitiously. "I'd never ask this, but I know your reputations and we're in a tight spot here."

"What's going on?" Frank asked, curious.

"You know that this is the anniversary of the Battle. The town is going to be mobbed, and we're short on officers, even with help from the surrounding towns. But we're spread too thin as it is, as our resources have been divided lately."

"Why?" Joe asked. "What are you saying?"

The Chief rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger before looking up. "The attempted murder you came across the other day was the third attack in the last month. And the previous two-they ended in murder. There's a serial murderer on the loose."

Joe's eyes grew wide. "What?! Why haven't we heard of this before?"

"Oh, it's been in the papers," Chief Cruz responded, eyes serious. "But the murders didn't seem to have much in common. The first murder was a young woman in her mid 30s- and she was stabbed to death at one of the antique stores at the edge of town. She had only worked there a month or so. I think she had just moved into the area this spring and was looking for a job in antiques. She was real happy when she landed this one. Damn shame. The second one was a… well, a young woman down on her luck. She's a local girl who was known to, erm… frequent the establishments…."

"A prostitute," Frank replied, matter-of-factly.

"Yes," the chief explained. "Her boyfriend- some think her pimp- is being held downtown as a possible suspect. We can keep him on a DUI anyway- he's been unable to make bail."

"How did she die?" Joe asked.

"Shot in the chest."

"Huh. A totally different signature if it's the same person. But the woman I saw last night... she lived?" Joe asked. "What was different about her attack?"

"I'd guess that she saw you," Chief Cruz answered.

"What do we know about this woman?" Frank asked.

"Nellie?" the Chief chuckled. "She's a local girl, too. A bit of a strange bird, but harmless." His expression grew a bit more serious. "She had a hard life, but she straightened herself out. Married Archie-those two are birds of a feather. He's a local as well: typical Gettysburg guy, hunter and collector and antiquer. Been married twenty years now. He'd be devastated if she was killed. I'm sure he's with her at the hospital now."

"Was anything found at the scene?" Frank asked. "Anything to link the murders?"

"Nothing," the chief admitted. "The only 'clue', if you will, that was found anywhere was at Nellie's attack. We scoured the store. The only thing out of place was an old Civil War glove- left hand, and an empty pack of gum. But that could have been from anywhere, so no- I guess no evidence, really."

"That doesn't make sense," Joe replied, thoughtful. "Anything dating back almost 150 years, especially linked to the Civil War, has to be valuable."

"Son," the Chief said, leaning forward, "you're in Gettysburg, the turning point of the Civil War. We have bullets, cannon shells- any artifacts you can think of, and ample shops to get them."

"It's still worth looking into," Frank pressed. "Maybe later we can come back and take a look?" he queried.

Joe glanced at Frank, saw he was pale, though his voice was steady. He stood and Frank did the same.

"We'll be back tomorrow, Chief, and we're on it. We'll be happy to work with you," Joe replied. He wanted to make sure that Frank was able to lie down for a bit, and he wasn't quite able to put any case above making sure that his brother was okay.

"Thank you, boys," the chief said, extending his hand to them. "We'll take all the help we can get."

"Oh- one more thing," Joe replied quickly. "We need the address and room number of Nellie Pabst. I'd like to pay her a visit."

"Sure," the chief acknowledged, left the room, and soon returned with the information.

"I have a question," Frank said, surprising Joe. As usual, his brother spoke quietly and unobtrusively, and Joe knew that he must have been thinking the entire time.

"Okay. What do you need?" Chief Cruz asked.

"The Smytheville Inn. Any idea on what happened last night?" he asked, as Joe squinted his eyes, trying to figure that curve ball question out.

The Chief smiled. "Ah, the ghost stories getting to you, son?" Then, he seemed to notice Frank's injury and made the connection. "I'm sorry, Frank. Now I know why I recognize you, when it was Joe I saw yesterday. I hope that you're feeling better."

Frank nodded. "Thank you. But several people were hurt last night and several others, including my girlfriend, were pretty close to getting injured as well. I wouldn't mind finding out more about that as well."

"Priorities, Frank," Chief Cruz said with a small smile. "Murders fist; protect the living. But, by all means, talk to the owners of the Inn when you get a chance. They're good people- Charles and Harry Williams. I'll put a call in if you'd like to stop by tonight. Would 9:00 work? They're up late. I'll call you if they CAN'T meet you."

"Van made the dinner reservation at 6:00 again, so that should be fine," Joe added. "Thanks."

On the way out, as they made their way through the parking lot, Joe slung an arm around Frank's shoulders. "You don't look great," he said, gently.

"I'm really okay," Frank replied. "My head is starting to hurt again, though. I'm a little shaky."

Joe's blue eyes clouded over. "You need rest."

Frank nodded. "Yeah. I guess. We have a lot to think about."

Before Joe could respond, he caught the smallest glimpse of movement in the background before two shots rang out. Joe instinctively dove to the ground as the dirt in front of him erupted into the air. When he finally looked up, Frank was nowhere to be found.

*Friendly's really is situated like this in Gettysburg!


	6. Chapter 6

**Note _:_** _I'm going to post three chapters weekly instead of two._ _Thank you so much to those of you following and reviewing the story. Feedback is very much appreciated from the following people: Hero 76, DrumBoy100, Red Hardy, MooninScorpio, EvergreenDreamweaver, hlahabibty, BeeBee18, max 2013, Erin Jordan, sm2003495, Paulina Ann, and Caranath. Thanks for taking the time to leave a note. Enjoy!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 6

"Frank!" Joe yelled, frantic, as soon as the shots had stopped and he was able to move out of the way. Where was he?! Joe tried to fight panic as he shakily and cautiously stood up, surveying the scene.

"I'm here," Frank answered at last, standing on the other side of a car near which he had taken refuge. "I'm okay."

Joe breathed a quick sigh of relief as he jogged quickly to his brother. "What was that?!" he questioned, breathless. Immediately, he looked in the direction from which the shots had come. "Come on- let's go!" Joe was ready to sprint over to the scene when he felt Frank grab his arm.

"Are you crazy?" Frank asked, pulling him back. "Great idea, Joe. Head right back to whoever is shooting at us while we are completely unarmed and in a parking lot where there's virtually no protection." His voice was both angry and exasperated.

"But-" Joe tried to interject, but Frank held him back.

"No, Joe. Absolutely not. Go back into the police station and let's get some backup."

Joe sighed in frustration, but realized his brother was right. Over the course of the next hour, Chief Cruz sent several officers to secure the scene and Frank and Joe helped to investigate. Whoever had shot at the brothers was long gone, seemingly having vanished into thin air. As they made their way back to their car, Joe bent down as something caught his eye. "What the hell is this?" He picked up a gray object and stared at it in disbelief.

Officer Anne d'Angelo stood by him and exchanged a glance with Chief Cruz, while other officers attempted to divert the crowd that had started to emerge. "What?" Joe asked, noting the shared glance.

"Add this to the list of things that makes no sense," Officer D'Angelo replied with a sigh. "It's not a casing. It's an entire bullet, and I'll bet there's another one close by. A bullet from the Civil War, which means it must have been fired from a Civil War gun."

"Why did you guys look at each other?" Joe asked, directly, as Frank stood quietly, listening.

Chief Cruz shook his head, reached behind him, and rubbed his neck. "I've never seen anything like this. And this is the second time in two days this has happened."

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, curious.

"Son, you asked me before about the Smytheville Inn, and I will arrange a meeting with the owners for you. But last night, when the windows blew out before the scaffolding collapsed… we had to look into that. It turns out- well, the gunshots that the tourists- that you- heard were, in, fact, gunshots. And they were fired presumably from a Civil War rifle, because we found the bullets near the scene."

Frank raised a hand to his head while Joe's eyes widened in shock. "So. Maybe it's the same guy. Could the issue at the Inn and the murders and attack be related? And why would they be firing at me or Joe?" Frank asked, knowing he had to think about it, but fighting a now pounding headache all the same.

"Thanks, Chief," Joe said at last. "You've provided a lot of information for us. We'll be in touch later or tomorrow." With a final handshake, Joe headed to the car, opening the driver's side door.

As he drove the short distance back to the bed and breakfast, he started to discuss the case with Frank, but noticed that Frank had closed his eyes, hand covering his forehead. "You're really hurting, huh?" Joe asked, concerned.

"Mmmm," Frank mumbled, but finally responded more coherently. "I have a pretty bad migraine," he admitted at last. "I need to sleep for a few hours. I'm sure I'll be okay. Right now, I'm caught between throwing up or passing out."

Joe patted Frank's knee briefly and finally arrived at the lodging. He helped Frank to his room, where his brother promptly ran into the bathroom and vomited. Joe sighed, feeling bad for Frank. Migraines did suck. He hoped it was just that, though he had a more than strong suspicion that the knock to the head last night might very well be a concussion, not that he and Frank weren't relatively used to them.

When Frank got out, he looked pale as he accepted a glass of water from Joe, who rubbed his back. "Thanks," Frank said at last. "I actually feel a little better."

"Get some rest," Joe encouraged him. "I'll try to get some leads on the attack from yesterday. I just need to get in touch with the girls. They should be back from the bus tour by now. You have plenty of time to relax until dinner and then we'll see how you're doing." Joe looked at his brother who had moved to the bed and stretched out. "I wouldn't want you to miss dinner again, though," he couldn't help add as a joke, but, as he finished laughing, he saw that Frank had not heard him, as he was fast asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Back at his room, he found Vanessa studying her laptop intently and Callie stretching, dressed in workout clothes. Both women had glowing suntans and smiled when he came in. He noticed that Vanessa closed her computer right away, though.

"Ladies," he said, with mock formality, and went to sit beside Vanessa on the bed. Playfully, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck repeatedly, making her break out in peals of laughter. When he was done, and Vanessa was catching her breath, he kept an arm firmly around her.

"Hello, Callie," he said, somewhat awkwardly. He hadn't seen her since last night- actually, this morning- and he still felt tense around her. "How was the tour?"

Before Callie could answer, Vanessa cut in. "Amazing. Beautiful. We got to see so many parts of the battlefield, and we stopped at Little Round Top and got the most amazing pictures of the battlefield. Want to see?" she asked him, and took out her phone.

"Sure," Joe responded, relieved that at least the girls had had a peaceful day thus far. As he scrolled through the pictures with Vanessa smiling and explaining the various sites next to him, he felt a stab of remorse. Vanessa had worked so hard to plan this vacation, and, as usual, he and Frank had managed to find at least one mystery to stumble upon.

"That's quite a view from Little Round Top," he had to agree.*

"Callie felt like she was going to fall off the mountain!" Vanessa exclaimed with a laugh.

Joe looked at Callie and raised his eyebrows. "Not a fan of heights, huh?" he asked, trying to make conversation.

"I like solid ground best, thanks," she replied with a little smile.

"You know my brother does fly airplanes," he reminded her for some reason. But he paused for a second after he said it. Why was he goading her? He actually heard himself doing it and wondered how many times he'd done so in the past. He was impressed when she didn't take the bait.

"He does, indeed, and I say a little prayer for him every time he goes up," she said, not quite sure how to answer him. He nodded slightly, not pursuing it.

"Oh!" he said, returning to Vanessa. "See that picture from the hill? That's Devil's Den in the background. Frank told me to tell you about some sort of overnight campout there tomorrow if you were interested. I didn't know what you had planned, but I thought I'd mention it."

"Really?" Vanessa asked, a smile lighting up her face. "That'd be perfect! The ball is on the third, and tonight is pretty much booked with dinner, but that would be great. Wanna do it?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "Could be fun." As always, he was impressed by Vanessa's sense of adventure.

"Wanna come, Cal?" Vanessa asked, but Callie didn't answer right away.

"Uh… maybe?! Let me check with Frank first. Is that okay?" she queried.

"Sure!" Vanessa said. "Joe! Let's see if I can check out what it's all about. What did you and Frank do today? Make any progress?"

"We got shot at," he replied without thinking, as Vanessa gasped and Callie stood at once.

"What?!" Callie exclaimed, horrified. "Oh my god! Are you okay? Is Frank? Where is he? Is he-"

"He's okay, Cal. Don't worry. But he IS sleeping in your room. He has a pretty bad headache from yesterday."

"What happened?" she asked, dark eyes filled with concern.

It took about ten minutes, but Joe filled both girls in on the day's events. When he was done, Callie looked down, quiet, but Vanessa exclaimed, "Well, now you need to solve this mystery. Someone is going to get his ass kicked."

Joe started laughing and hugged Vanessa tightly. "That's my girl," he told her, kissing her lips quickly. "Frank and I are on it."

"Can't I help?" Vanessa asked, eyes wide.

"Absolutely not," he told her. "Good try." He kissed her cheek.

Before she could protest, Joe changed the subject. "Are you working out or something?" he asked Callie.

"I… well, yeah. I got changed quickly before. I thought Frank might want to run with me, but I guess that's out." Callie started pulling her long hair back in a braid. "We have plenty of time before dinner, so I might as well go."

"You know your way around here?" he asked her, surprised.

She shrugged. "I'll figure it out. Want to come, Van?" she asked.

"Cal, you know I only run if there's a pecan pie in front of me or a killer behind me," she replied, deadpanned, and Callie chuckled. Joe, however, did not. It was crowded and re-enactments were going on. And, of course, there really WAS a serial killer on the loose. He couldn't let her go alone.

"I'll go with you," he said, simply, and watched as Vanessa's mouth dropped open and Callie's eyes grew wide.

After a minute, Callie spoke, flustered. "Oh. Okay. Sure. That'd be fine."

Joe nodded, said "let me get changed," grabbed his some clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Holy hell," Vanessa said. "You and Joe are voluntarily spending time with each other? Is the earth off its axis or something?" Then, she smiled. "I LOVE it, girl! It'll give me time to snoop-ONLINE ONLY- promise- and then you'll get to know my man." She sat up and embraced Callie quickly. "And you know what? I'm going to cancel dinner plans for tonight and order pizza, so you guys can stay out as long as you need!"

Joe, emerging from the bathroom in jogging shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt, overheard the last part and raised his hands in question. "Babe, Frank and I have plans at 9:00 anyway, but if you want pizza, I'm down for it. Order me two pies. Then decide what you want." He winked at her.

"Kind of negates the whole exercise thing," Callie said dryly.

"Look at you," Vanessa said, appreciatively, admiring Joe's muscular physique. She stood next to him and kissed him. "I wasn't aware that you could bring guns to a battlefield," she went on, rubbing his biceps.

Joe laughed as Callie rolled her eyes. "On that note…" she said.

Joe gave Vanessa another quick kiss and then turned to Callie. If nothing else, he was trying, and he hoped that Frank could see that.

"After you," he said, indicating the door. Unable to help himself, he added, "age before beauty."

Callie glared at him, but then smiled. "If by that you mean manners before morons, then yes- I agree." She opened the door and stepped outside.

Joe shook his head. This was going to be interesting.

And Vanessa, thrilled that some good was coming of today, sat back, took out her computer, and started to investigate.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After quickly stretching, Callie looked up at him. "I was thinking. Maybe we could head down some of the running paths by the battlefield, kind of take the route that Van and I took today. I have two waters and here," she indicated a little pouch by her shorts, "I have some money if we need to stop. Is that okay?" She began to move.

Joe nodded, and started slowly jogging next to her. "I don't stop, you know," he told her, suppressing a smile.

"Oh, believe me. I know," Callie quipped back, and Joe silently laughed.

"Do you run often?" he asked her, never having known her to do so when they were younger.

"Yeah," she replied, slightly picking up the pace. "I started in California. I like exercise. It's a good stress reliever."

"How far do you go?" Joe asked, and Callie suppressed her own smile.

"That's not a good question to ask a lady."

Joe burst out laughing. "Okay, Shaw. Let me rephrase. How far do you run?" he asked, surprised by the ease of conversation.

"Uh," she said as she led him off the main street, "I don't know. Maybe 5-7 miles?"

Joe's mouth fell open. "A day?!"

"No- per hour," she replied, rolling her eyes again. "Yes, a day. When I can. The weather is really different in L.A. It's gorgeous and sunny most of the time, not like here, where it's so humid in the summer."

"Are you in, like, a running club or something?" Joe asked.

"No," she went on, casually. "Sometimes I run alone in the day by the beach. A lot of times I run with my friend, Johnny."

Joe eyed her as they jogged. "You don't run with your girlfriends?" he asked, surprised.

"I don't really have a lot of girlfriends," she said, more a matter of fact than anything else.

Joe was surprised. Callie had always been pretty popular in Bayport; got along with most people.

"Well, I don't exercise more than I have to. Not at all," Joe replied, changing the subject. "Frank's the one who likes to get up early and go the distance. He enjoys it and takes his time. I like it fast- in and out- and just get it done."

"Hahaha!" Callie started laughing hard, wiping away tears of laughter. "If you say so. Not disagreeing about your brother at all, but a little TMI, if you ask me."

Joe looked at her and then laughed, blushing. "Wow! Dirty mind!" he told her, genuinely surprised that she was being so silly with him, but still laughing in spite of himself. He genuinely enjoyed stupid humor and puns, and he loved the occasional ribald commentary. Vanessa tolerated it; Frank could be hilarious in a much more dry way, but Callie? She could joke about sex? Conservative and ostensibly demure CALLIE? He couldn't believe it.

"You said it- not me!" she replied with a wink.

The next half hour was spent in similar companionable talk. Joe was absolutely shocked to see that Callie was not only smart, but also funny, determined, and competitive. More than once she had tried to out-sprint him, and once she'd even done it, a large task for a petite woman. Finally, they arrived at the outskirts of a cemetery, where a bench overlooked several of the graves.

"Wanna rest?" she asked, panting and wiping the sweat from her brow. It was 4:00, and still scorching hot out.

"Giving up so soon?" he asked.

"Not if you don't," she answered, to his surprise.

Joe was huffing himself, drenched, and thirsty. "How about if we BOTH say we want to rest? Would that be to your liking, Miss 'I can do anything better than you'?" he asked.

She nodded. "Deal."

They sat next to each other on the bench, drinking water and catching their breath.

Joe glanced sidelong at Callie, not sure of what to say. The last hour or so had been bearable- fun, even- but there were years of history, unspoken resentment, animosity to deal with. Though, looking at the Callie now, he couldn't quite explain why. She even looked different than when they were kids, and it was probably the first time he noticed that. Callie sat next to him, a woman now, not a girl, and, even sweating in the sun, he had to admit- she was beautiful. But it was more than that. Her aura, if he could use such a term, was calmer, and she seemed somehow more mature, more- worldly?- than he remembered.

If she HAD really changed, then maybe, maybe- he could, too.

"Should I ask why you're staring at me?" she asked him, turning to him with a small smile.

"Just looking at the chick I'm going to out-run," he quipped back, though he hated it the moment it came out of his mouth. Why couldn't he be serious with her?

"Mmmm," was all she responded.

He sat back. It was now or never. "Callie?" he asked her.

"Yeah?" she asked, taking another sip of water.

"Can we have a serious talk for like five minutes? I don't know if I could handle more than that." He was straightforward and meant the question, though he heard his tone and tried to soften it.

"Okay," she replied. "What do you want to talk about?" She looked up at him, and he could see that she was curious but guarded, very much, he realized, like he was feeling.

He sighed and crossed his fingers as he forced himself to make eye contact with her. "Frank asked me to try to get along with you better. I told him I would," he started, simply.

Callie looked surprised, but her answer surprised him even more. "I didn't know he'd done that," she replied, slowly. "But, you know, yeah. I wouldn't hate that idea."

Joe felt a small smile tug at his lips from her wording. _She sounds exactly like me._

"I don't know why you don't like me, Joe," she replied, suddenly, her honesty shocking him. She looked upset, but in control. "We're not kids anymore. I thought- after last month- that maybe you'd want to be friends. You said you wouldn't mind talking about Iola. I thought you might want to actually do that," she finished, quietly.

Joe felt himself stiffen at the mention of Iola's name, a visceral reaction to the mention of his past. She saw it, and he saw that she saw it, and watched as she turned the other way, facing away from him.

Joe took a few moments to collect his thoughts. He didn't know where to start. "I don't dislike you- totally," he said, and shook his head when he heard Callie snort and shake her own head.

"Okay, Cal. That wasn't the best start," he admitted.

She turned to him, lips quivering just the slightest bit. "I don't know what you want from me!" she exclaimed. "I don't even know what to do with you now. Do I argue with you? Do I try to convince you that I'm not so bad? Do I give up? Your brother tells me all the time that we're so alike, that we have so much in common. But I don't think so. I…" she turned away. She would not cry.

Joe felt something in him snap. He was at a crossroads here. He would be honest with her, he decided, because, all of sudden, being antagonistic wasn't needed, because she had ceased to be his sparring partner, and it was no fun feeling like a jerk. "I'm sorry," he said at last, and she turned to him. He knelt beside her, unexpectedly emotional and wondering where it was coming from. "I don't know why you always argue with me, either," he began, softly. "I don't know why we've always been like this. I get that Frank has you in his life now. I'm not a 14 or 15 year old kid who is worried about you spending too much time with my brother anymore. I think you feel the same."

She nodded, slowly. "Then why?" she whispered.

He stood and sighed. "I don't even know, Callie. You really hurt my brother, and I just don't trust that you won't do it again. And before you say anything, I KNOW it was his fault. I DO understand that, and I guess your over-reaction to it makes sense. But you didn't see him then."

Callie stood beside him, eyes dark and almost flashing. "Over- reaction?! Just because I had standards and wouldn't accept less than total loyalty? Wow. Not everyone allows themselves to be used and hurt. Just because you treated women like dirt after Iola died doesn't mean that I would have allowed it!" She was seething as he became flushed. "And YOU didn't know what I went through, did you? You don't know anything about my life anymore. Do you? DO YOU?" she yelled, and he was shocked. He expected her to be crying, but it was worse than that. She looked incensed and somehow deeply hurt at the same time.

"No," he admitted, swallowing back his own anger and trying to diffuse the situation. Man, she could touch a nerve with him.

"Is it Iola? Is it Vanessa?" she went on, hands balled up. "Is it because your two girlfriends were or are my best friends? I'm the only one who can say that, Joe. It's something else that connects us. Yet- you tell me"- she poked at his chest, and he flashed back to years ago, when she had done almost the same thing after Iola had died, "Why I can love the same people you do, and they can love me, but you have to hate me. Tell me!" She was visibly upset, still not crying, but trembling.

In that moment, he saw in her not an angry, deceptive, spiteful enemy, but a strong-willed, direct, and honest woman who was being vulnerable and raw… and he respected that. And almost instinctively, as much to his surprise as, he was sure, to hers, he reached out to her, taking her in his arms and holding her tightly. He didn't think he'd ever even hugged her before. But- it didn't feel strange. At all. Inexplicably, he felt protective of her.

Slowly, wordlessly, he felt her trembling subside, felt her breathing calm down, as he felt her arms slide around him too, her head resting against his chest. He couldn't get over how easy it was to hold her, how he felt completely at ease and totally platonic as he did so; but it was more than that. He felt it. They had some sort of connection. Maybe… maybe… they'd always had it. Frank's words flashed back to him, and then he got it. Yes. It was just like he was comforting a sister, if he had had one, and it stunned him.

She pulled back slowly, met his eyes. "That was a little weird," she managed.

"But not bad," he responded, gently rubbing her shoulder.

"No. Not bad," she agreed, and offered him a small smile.

"Rome wasn't built in a day," he said at last. "Want to try to start over?" He was almost afraid of her answer.

"I'd like to try. Yes," she replied, almost shyly.

"Well, then," he said, and tried to resume normalcy. He bowed to her. "My name is Joe Hardy, and I do believe, Ms...?"

"Shaw. Callie Shaw," she answered with a small laugh, eyes twinkling.

"Ms. Shaw," he went on, "That my older brother may just be enamored with you once you meet him."

"Is that a fact?" Callie asked, a smile creeping up on her face.

"And he is almost as handsome as me, so you may just be in luck," he finished with a wink.

"Oh yeah?" Callie replied, a mischievous smile on her face. She took a few steps away. "Is he faster than you, too, Mr. Joe Hardy?" she asked, and took off at a sprint.

Joe started laughing and took off after her. Maybe this trip could be salvaged after all.

*Little Round Top does overlook the Devil's Den, and gives a clear vantage point of a large area of the battle.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note:** _Early, as promised! Many thanks to those of you following and reviewing the story. The comments that you leave always make my day! Thank you to hlahabibty (there is definitely more of Iola to come!), Tin Dog (thank you for your amazing reviews), Guest, BeeBee18, BMSH, Hero 76, Paulina Ann, EvergreenDreamweaver, Caranath, and max 2013 for your reviews since the last chapter._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 7

"Hi, baby. How are you feeling?" Callie asked Frank as she gazed in the mirror and saw his reflection smiling at her. It was close to 6:00, and she had returned back to the room about 45 minutes previously, taken a shower, gotten changed, and was now in the process of putting on a light bit of makeup. Frank had been sleeping when she had returned to the room, but now appeared to be fully awake and staring at her.

"Much better. I definitely needed that rest," he replied lightly, as he came up to her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

Callie leaned back against him contentedly for a moment in silence before reaching down for the mascara again and completing the process as she felt Frank kiss her cheek.

"There!" she said, satisfied, and placed the mascara down. She turned in his arms and hugged him tightly. "I'm so relieved that you're feeling better, honey," she said, softly. Then, she looked up at him, kissed him quickly, and told him, "Now, it's time for you to get ready!" She stepped back from his arms and indicated for him to choose some clothes, as she found a chair for herself to wait.

"What? It's time for dinner so soon?" he asked, yawning and then stretching. "Ugh," he groaned. "Did we miss Vanessa's dinner reservation again? She'll kill us!"

Callie laughed softly. "No. she canceled it," Callie began as Frank went to rummage through some of the drawers looking for a respectable, non- wrinkled shirt and shorts. "She ordered pizza, actually. I think it's being delivered by 6:30. Joe said you guys had an appointment or something tonight at 9:00?" she questioned.

Frank pulled off his rumpled shorts and exchanged them for neatly pressed khaki ones before peeling off his tee shirt. He looked up at her, curious for a moment as she stared at him, a small smile on her face, and furrowed his brows. "Oh yeah," he said at last, remembering. He ran a hand through his dark hair idly. "Sorry, Cal. I'm still waking up. We have an appointment- I think- to see the owners of the Smytheville Inn tonight. I wanted to look into what happened last night. It's a crazy story, actually." He raised his brows. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because even when you're tired, you're still sexy, hot stuff," she replied with a twinkle in her eyes, making him blush before a mischievous look came into his eyes. He walked over to her, leaned down, rested his hands on her shoulders, and kissed her lightly. "Wanna be late for dinner again?" he asked softly, winking.

"Mmmm. Yes," Callie replied, looking up as Frank kissed her again, and she returned the kiss gently. "But no," she added with a laugh. "I'm hungry."

Returning the laugh, Frank gave her a quick peck again before throwing on a navy Polo shirt. "Me, too, to be honest." As he started finagling with his watch, he looked at her again. "Wait. How did you know about the appointment tonight?" he asked her, curious.

Callie stood up, neatly smoothing her light blue, halter dress as she did so. "Because Joe told us; me and Vanessa. Joe and I had a nice afternoon together, honestly."

"Wait. You and Joe spent the afternoon together?" he asked, eyes wide. "Are you being serious?"

"I am," Callie replied, walking to him and taking his hand. "He told me you talked to him about us getting along, and we actually went running this afternoon. It was… I don't know. Kind of nice." She looked down, somewhat at a loss for words.

"Joe exercised?!" Frank asked, incredulous, and Callie started laughing as she looked back up.

"That wasn't the important part of what I told you," she teased him.

"I…. wow," he said at last. He looked down at her, gently touching her cheek with his free hand. "And you had a good time?" he asked again, shocked.

"Yeah," she replied, meeting his eyes. "He was, I don't know- funny? Interesting? Honest? He's a piece of work, but… I… today was kind of fun," she concluded.

"Well, good," Frank replied softly. "That makes me happy."

"Me, too," Callie replied, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Let's go. Pizza awaits!"

Frank laced his fingers through hers as he took her hand, and they headed off to Joe and Vanessa's room, eager to see what the night would hold in store.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At 8:00, the foursome had finished dinner and were spending time relaxing and covering what they knew about the case thus far and the strange events of the previous night.

Vanessa looked at Joe and raised her brows. "So what's the next step?" she asked him. "You've been kind of quiet."

Joe sighed. "Yeah. I guess. I'm just thinking about the gunshots. I mean, who the hell fires bullets from a Civil War gun with real bullets in both the second murder case, and in attacking us, AND in last night's ghost tour?"

"You're thinking they're related?" Frank asked, surprised. "I mean, I see where that's a logical conclusion because of how unique it is, but what does a ghost tour have to do with a murder?"

"I think we need to look into it," Joe replied, and Frank nodded.

Vanessa bit her lip. "I mean, if you can get me information on the guns and bullet types, I can do a search for you to see if there's a type in common," she chimed in. "I could do the same for the type of glove that was found at the scene of the attack we witnessed last night." She looked up, trying to sound confident, though thus far she had uncovered almost nothing, having had no information. Although Joe had been loving as always, the last two days had been crazy, and he had been distracted and worried about Frank. They'd spent almost no time together, and, as much as she sincerely wanted to help him on the case, she wanted even more to make this a successful vacation. Thus far, it had been a bust. Callie had spent more time alone with Joe than she had, for goodness sake. It was ridiculous.

"Sure, babe. You can look up whatever you'd like," Joe replied, somewhat dismissively, and Vanessa felt her defenses go up. As Joe continued to chat with Frank, Callie walked over to her and motioned for her to stand outside.

As soon as she stepped outside with Callie and closed the door, Vanessa whirled on her. "Is he freaking kidding me right now?" Vanessa fumed. "I swear to God, I'm about to-"

"You're not wrong," Callie replied calmly. "But maybe you just need to talk to him, Van. Communication is so important. Joe's distracted and -"

"Callie, I love you, but shut up right now!" Vanessa answered angrily. "How can he ignore me like that? I should just tell him what I think of him."

Callie's face sported a noticeable flush, but she remained calm. "Yes. That's exactly what I just told you to do," Callie evenly stated. "Look. I know you, Vanessa. You're more hurt than angry right now, and if you start going crazy on Joe right now, he'll just ignore you."

"No he won't! I'm not you!" Vanessa seethed.

"Wow," Callie answered evenly. "Well, that's great."

Vanessa started to calm down, knowing she was sounding irrational and upsetting Callie. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "You're right." She rubbed her forehead. She felt tears come to her eyes again, something that had been happening all too often lately. "Am I making too much of this?" she asked, desperate for someone who would be honest with her.

Callie took a deep breath before answering. "No. And Yes. Look, I know you're upset about the anniversary. THAT you have a right to be, given that it was Joe's idea in the first place to celebrate these half -year moments, but it'll only get worse if you don't tell him. As far as the case goes, yes- I think so. Joe hasn't really slept and and the last two days have been overwhelming. I'd give him a break." She offered a small smile.

Vanessa swallowed the lump that was starting to creep into her throat. "How do you and Frank do it?" she asked in a small voice. "You never fight."

Callie laughed. "Vanessa, we broke up for a year and a half because he cheated on me. But he learned from it. And I'm…" her eyes darkened and the smile fell from her face, "I'm not the same person I was, either. But I do know this," she went on, meeting Vanessa's eyes again. "You HAVE to be honest with each other and talk."

Vanessa nodded, frowning. "But Frank always loved you," she whispered. "And I know that Joe loves me- I do. But maybe not enough. Maybe I'll never be good enough for him. I just cannot compete against Iola," she went on, lip trembling. She wiped away a loose tear with the back of her hand.

"Oh, Van," Callie replied, rubbing her arm in comfort. "You can't MAKE someone love you like you want him to. But…" she looked away for a moment, trying to say the right thing. "Van," she started again. "Joe Hardy loves you. He does. He loves you every bit as much as he loved Iola- I really believe that."

Suddenly, she gasped, turning away from Vanessa. It dawned on her out of the blue; one reason why she and Joe had bonded. Why they'd had a very strong connection for years now, whether it manifested in anger or … or… affection, she realized with a start. She felt her own lip quiver, and needed to take several breaths to remain calm.

"Cal? What?" Vanessa asked, concerned.

"Joe's been through an unimaginably horrible experience," Callie managed in a low voice, fighting for control. She couldn't look up. "You don't just 'get over that', Van. I bet that he's haunted by nightmares; I bet that he relives that explosion, that one moment that changed his life forever, all the time. I bet that he blamed himself and hated himself and was almost too scared to love again and not self destruct." She finally met Vanessa's eyes, her own eyes bright with un-shed tears. "So it's a miracle that he's come this far, that he was able to love himself again enough to allow himself to love you. He's probably scared that if he commits 100%, he's risking everything- again. But he's come so far," she managed, staring at Vanessa's shocked expression. "Just love him, Vanessa," she went on, voice haunted. "Support him. Let him be himself as you've done, at his own pace. And then- if he does commit, and I think he will- then he will love you with a passion and depth you haven't even thought possible."

Callie nodded at her friend, unable to speak further, knowing that she had been speaking about herself every bit as much as about Joe. Finally, she choked out, "Tell Frank I'll be back in the room, okay?" and, quietly, she headed off in the opposite direction.

Vanessa felt tears slide from her eyes, and, stunned, felt a chill pass through her. Slowly, she headed back into the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey," Joe greeted her as she opened the door. Seeing the look on her face, he stood at once. So did Frank.

"Babe? What's wrong?" he asked her, at the same time that Frank asked, "Where's Callie?"

Vanessa looked at Frank first. "In your room," she told him. "She's okay."

Vanessa watched as Frank and Joe exchanged a quick glance, saw Joe nod as Frank politely but quickly excused himself from the room.

"Van?" Joe asked again, slipping his arms around her immediately and pulling her to him. "Baby, are you okay?" She felt him stroke her hair, heard the worry in his voice.

She clung to him for a moment before starting to pull away, but he wouldn't release her. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Callie was right. Joe was worth fighting for; the feeling she had in his arms couldn't be faked, and it wasn't all about her. He had loved her in the best way he could. For now- for as long as it would take- that had to be enough.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her gently. "I didn't mean to be curt with you before- I was just really involved in what I was saying to Frank. It's no excuse," he went on, continuing to run his fingers lightly through her hair. "You are helpful and brilliant and amazing, and I am completely unworthy of any help you could offer to your ass of a boyfriend."

Vanessa let a small laugh escape."You're not an ass."

"I am," Joe went on, kissing her forehead. "An exceptionally good looking one, but an ass nonetheless."

Vanessa pulled away and then wrapped her arms around his neck. "I mean, how about we just agree that you have a great ass, not that you're actually an ass, okay?" she managed, and Joe pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss that left her breathless.

"Come on," he told her, surprising her when he pulled away. When she looked perplexed, he smiled and reached for her hand. "You wanted to help, and I accept your offer. Come with me and we'll interview Nellie Pabst tonight at the hospital. You saw the attack; you have a right to be there. I'll fill you in again on what to look for as we go. Then we'll get back here as quickly as we can."

"What?" Vanessa asked, as Joe pulled her out the door and she grabbed her purse at the last minute. "What about the Smytheville Inn meeting in an hour?"

"Frank can handle that by himself or with Callie," Joe responded, slipping an arm around her waist as they walked to the car. "We have very important business. Critical, in fact, to take care of back here." He reached the car and opened the passenger side door for Vanessa before going around to the driver's side and getting in.

"What business?" Vanessa asked.

Joe rested his hand on her thigh as he backed out. "We'll discuss it later," he replied, but she saw the start of a smirk on his face.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the hospital, Joe held onto Vanessa's hand as he stood outside Nellie Pabst's room. "Remember, Van- all I need you to do is to pay close attention to what she says. See if I miss anything that we can discuss later. Watch body mannerisms, posture, anything that seems not to make sense."

Vanessa looked at him, and he could see she was uncertain. "Hey," he told her gently, "this is totally safe, or I wouldn't have brought you here. You have to do nothing except be your beautiful, charming self-you know how to talk to people. And these are the victims, not the perpetrators. We're just looking for something- a little detail, a small fact- that she might have overlooked." He kissed her nose. "You're ready, babe. I know you are."

She leaned against him for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, Joe. I am. Thanks." She gave him a small wink, appreciating that he was trusting her to be here, to help him, to spend time with him, even when he had to work. It was a peace offering and she accepted it graciously.

"Nellie?" Joe asked as he walked in, Vanessa behind him. He knew that Chief Cruz had called her ahead of time to tell her that he would be visiting. As soon as they entered, an attractive woman in her early forties looked up. She had light brown eyes and hair that was pulled back in a bun, and she smiled brightly when she saw them. Despite the seriousness of the situation, the light Civil War tune playing in the background seemed to make the room more comfortable.

A slightly older man in his early forties, with the same coloring, stood at once and extended his hand. "Joe?" he asked, shaking Joe's hand at once. He looked behind him.

"This is my girlfriend, Vanessa," Joe replied, and Vanessa shook his hand.

After Nellie was introduced to Joe and Vanessa, she started talking at once. "Oh, what a lovely couple you are," Nellie began in earnest. "I've been hoping you would come and visit. I'll be out in a day or so. My injuries weren't that bad, thank the lord, but the experience was terrifying. Thank you- a thousand times- for calling for help. Have you found anything?" she asked.

"No," Joe replied honestly, looking at the couple in front of him. "We wanted to stop by tonight to see how you're both doing, of course, but also to see if maybe you remembered anything about that night. My brother Frank and I are assisting the police with the matter, and any help you could offer would be appreciated."

"Well, goodness," Nellie went on. "I'd be happy to help you, but I don't know what I can offer to you that I haven't told the police already. But what would you like to know?"

"That night," Joe started, meeting her eyes, "Can you set the scene for me? Tell me what you were doing, maybe what you saw or heard? You own that bookstore, is that correct?"

Archie answered. "Yes, we do. We're only one of two authentic antique book and antique relic stores in Gettysburg proper- the actual town, itself. We've owned the store for fifteen years."

"It's a great, historic town, and I guess this is the best time of year to be here, right?" Joe asked.

"Absolutely!" Archie agreed. "Especially this year. There are so many events- what are you going to? Have you heard about the campout at Devil's Den?" he asked. "That's a scary damned placed, but rich in history. Real haunting."

"Yes," Vanessa responded politely. "Joe and I are going. It's kind of exciting!"

Archie just smiled.

"What were you doing in the store that night?" Joe asked, changing the subject.

"Oh- Archie wasn't there," Nellie corrected him gently. "He was actually in our little apartment above the store waiting to meet me to go to our roundtable."

"Roundtable?" Vanessa asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"Oh, yes," Nellie went on. "A Civil War roundtable. Archie and I are re-enactors and we were prepping for the activities for the week. The meeting was scheduled months in advance."

"So you dress up?" Vanessa asked, curious. "That's kind of cool. We're actually going to a ball in two days, ourselves. My friend Callie and I went to a darling little dress shop and we're renting the most amazing gowns- so pretty!"

Joe suppressed a smile at Vanessa's enthusiasm. She was inadvertently doing exactly what he hoped she would do- putting the Pabsts at ease with her conversation. That's what he needed-Vanessa was a natural!

"Oh, they are!" Nellie agreed enthusiastically. "You're attending the Union Blues dance?" she asked, and Vanessa nodded, smiling. "Are you?" Vanessa asked.

Nellie laughed. "Goodness, no. We're attending the rival ball at the Sons of the Confederacy. Can't be crossing battle lines on the evening of a dance; it would not follow decorum," she finished with a small wink.

Joe raised an eyebrow. "Yes! That's right. You were dressed up that evening. I thought I saw that in the shadows, but it was dark," he began.

"Oh, certainly I was," Nellie answered. "In my common wear dress. Archie and I- many of the store owners here, dress up daily in our stores. It lends to authenticity. And all roundtable meetings require dress."

"What happened that night?" Joe asked her, gently. "I'm so sorry you were hurt."

"I… well, I was preparing to go out in an hour or so and I was closing down the shop. All of a sudden I felt someone grab me from behind, and the next thing I knew I was being… stabbed." Her eyes took on a faraway look.

"Was anything taken?" Joe asked.

"Some petty cash," Archie answered quickly, shaking his head disdainfully. He took out a pack of gum and started chewing a stick, offering a piece to Joe and Vanessa, who declined.

"That's all?" Vanessa asked. "You own valuable antiques. I'm shocked that only cash was missing."

"Well, it's not that shocking," Archie replied, kindly. "The attack started right away. Probably any intended theft was thwarted."

"Did your attacker say anything to you?" Joe pressed, turning to Nellie. "Do you remember what he looked like? What he was wearing? Anything at all would help."

Joe took out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to Archie as he spoke. He could feel Vanessa staring at him, and was grateful when she didn't say a word.

"How'd you know?" Archie asked, smiling. "I've been here for almost two days straight without a break. Not that I mind, of course," he said to Nellie, smiling. "But I could use a smoke break. Thank you."

Joe handed him the cigarette, and asked, "Need matches?"

Archie nodded, and Joe tossed it to him before smiling and turning back to Nellie. "Was your attacker- was he in period gear as well?"

"I… I don't really know," Nellie said slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Not at all," Joe replied, smiling. He reached for Vanessa's hand, which she took. "Thank you both so much for your time. Nellie, best wishes for a speedy recovery. Archie, enjoy that break, man. Call me if you or Nellie remember anything, okay?"

"Will do," Archie agreed, and Joe and Vanessa turned and left the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe had told Vanessa not to talk, but to think, on the way back to the their lodging. Once they arrived and entered the room, he sat on the chair as Vanessa relaxed her long legs on the bed, and ran her hands through her hair.

"Okay, baby," Joe began. "Talk. what do you think?"

"I don't know," Vanessa replied after a few minutes.

"Anything bother you?" Joe asked, semi-enjoying this.

Vanessa blushed. "Why weren't any antiques taken?" she asked.

Joe nodded approvingly. "Very good. I'm surprised you didn't ask me about the cigarettes," he went on, teasing.

"I figured that you have your methods."

Joe grinned. "I do."

"So?" she asked at last.

"So," Joe responded, and walked to the bed, sitting next to her, "I needed to see something. A lot of guys smoke. I took a chance."

"I don't get it," Vanessa sighed in frustration.

"Think," he encouraged. "You can do it."

After several minutes, Vanessa gasped. "Wait! You tossed the matches. Did you want to see his reflexes?"

"Close," Joe nodded, impressed, as his blue eyes darkened. "He caught it with his left hand. A left hand glove was found in their store. He chewed gum. An empty gum wrapper was found there as well- same brand, too. And nothing was taken. And he was dressed in period gear." Joe shrugged. "Lots of food for thought."

"You think he attacked his wife?" Vanessa shuddered. "God, Joe. That's awful. Why would he do that? And then- he wouldn't have been the person to shoot at you, would he?"

She cuddled closer to him, and Joe wrapped her in his arms. "I don't know," he said, calmly, unaffected. "But I'm going to find out."

"Joe, be careful, " she cautioned. "How?"

"Like you said, I have my methods," he whispered in her ear as he turned her in his arms and kissed her, slowly and sweetly.

As he lowered her gently down, he cupped her face tenderly as he continued his trail of kisses. "And my methods are to examine every angle, curve, and undiscovered territory with careful attention. It may take all night," he whispered huskily. "I look forward to the challenge."

Vanessa could barely think, lost in his touch his embrace. "You may begin," she whispered.

And he did.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note** : _Thanks to those who are following the story and have added it to their alerts. Special thanks to those who took the time to review since the last chapter, which is much appreciated: Hero 76, DrumBoy100, BMSH, sm2003495, max2013, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, EvergreenDreamweaver, and Caranath._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 8

Frank arrived at the room in record time, trying to remain calm. He and Joe had been discussing the case intensely when they had both noticed that the girls had left the room and looked to be engaged in a rather spirited conversation as it appeared from the window. Joe realized at once how he'd acted terse with Vanessa, and Frank had tried to reassure him. Although they'd continued to talk, they had both watched curiously as the girls had their own discussion. It was only when Vanessa had appeared to be crying and Callie's face took on an otherworldly quality that he knew he had to see her... immediately.

"Cal?" he asked, as he knocked on the door. "Can you let me in?"

The door opened at once, and Callie waved him in. Much to his relief, she looked okay; calm.

"Are you okay, honey?" he asked, taking her in his arms without a second thought.

He relaxed a little as he felt her nod against his chest. "I'm fine," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Really."

"What happened?" he asked her softly.

"I just was talking to Vanessa about some things, and I started thinking about Joe."

Frank felt a small smile creep to his lips. "Should I be concerned you're thinking about my brother?" he joked.

"No," she replied, simply, cuddling closer.

Knowing she would tell him more in her own time, he didn't push the issue. "How can I help?" he asked.

"Frank," she mumbled against him, "just hold me for a few minutes."

"With pleasure," Frank responded, cradling her against him. He inhaled the light scent of her perfume and closed his eyes, and smiled when both he and Callie simultaneously sighed, content. He was home.

After a few minutes, he reluctantly let go as he felt her move back slowly. Her face was slightly flushed, but she looked happier; stronger. "Thank you, baby. I needed that," she said softly to him.

Frank gazed at her more intensely than he expected to, and he saw that she noticed.

"Yes?" she asked him, shyly.

God, she was gorgeous. And funny. And smart. And unbelievably brave. And, he reminded himself again, HIS. And he could not have loved her more.

He pulled her to him again, leaning down and kissing her deeply as he gently led her to the bed, simultaneously unzippering the back of her dress.

"What- what are you doing?" she whispered to him, trying to catch her breath.

"Making sure I don't waste another night without -" he began, and was shocked when she cut him off.

She placed a finger on his lips as she rested her other hand against his chest and looked at him, eyes bright. "YOU, my love, are still recovering from a pretty bad bump to the head. And you have a date with an Innkeeper tonight, and I would love to accompany you, if you'll allow me, since Joe is with Van." She kissed his cheek and neck as she winked at him.

Frank groaned, breathing heavily. "Baby, _come_ _on_." He was completely ready to stay in the rest of the night- hell, the rest of the week- and it was hard as hell to stop. But he would never, ever pressure her. The thought immediately sobered him.

Callie laughed as she reached back and re-zipped her dress. Then, as she looked at him, she seemed to be able to read his mind and her expression softened considerably. She touched his face gently, took his hand, and laid down on the bed, pulling him next to her for a moment. "Don't overthink it," she told him, gently. "This has nothing to do with anything. You just have a case to work on, and I won't stop that in any way. You've been hurt. Someone tried to shoot you and Joe today- that's serious. You need answers."

"Okay," he replied, knowing she was probably right.

She gazed up at him, and his heart softened. "You know, baby, that I love being with you, no matter what we're doing. And if sometimes it affects our, you know…" she blushed, which, as always, he found endearing, " _intimate_ time, that's okay."

Frank pulled her close, never losing eye contact with her. He treasured these quiet moments, still adored her and how she knew his heart, and he, hers. He had always been a little shy, but, with her, he was never embarrassed to tell her exactly how he felt. It was a beautiful, comforting feeling, and he hoped he would always provide that for her as well.

"Of course it's okay," he whispered as he stroked her cheek. "I've just missed you so much. And sometimes my words ... I...don't do a great job in expressing that to you, even though I try. So that's why our "intimate time", he took a moment to make air quotes with one hand, "is so special to me."

"To both of us," she added, still blushing.

He smiled and kissed her softly. "I will always take care of you, and you know it's all in your court. You _know_ that," he emphasized, needing her to understand. "Callie," he found himself saying, suddenly emotional, "I will never hurt you. And if all you need me to do is to hold you and cuddle with you and kiss you, then that's what I'll do. We've been together a long time and you control the pace. I'm sorry. I really thought you were ready with me without hesitating."

He watched her eyes fill with tears. "I AM ready. Obviously we've been very… active… since…."

"I know, honey. It's okay," he assured her. "Look," he told her tenderly, honestly, "We were dating for two years before we slept together. We are so much more than physical intimacy. Although," he added, huskily, "there is nothing more special, no time more precious, than when we make love. And that's what it is, baby. Not just sex. You know that. You've always known."

"I DO know," she whispered softly, and he knew that this whole conversation had been repeated countless times, would continue to be, and that was okay. He didn't care. She was getting better, and she was so strong. None of it was her fault, and it absolutely crushed him that she should ever think for an instant that she would be alone, that he loved her only for her physical beauty. Nothing was further from the truth, and he knew that she knew that deep down. This trip already, between the call with her parents and Joe grabbing her and the sudden disruption of last night was all chipping away at her safety net and confidence. That's all this was about. He'd just have to give that security back to her.

"I _love_ you," he stated directly, eyes never leaving hers. "That is all you need to understand. It says everything else my heart knows." He kissed her nose lightly.

"I'm sorry I get like this," she choked out, still holding in her tears.

"I told you. Don't ever be sorry."

She sat up finally and so did he, and he could tell she was stronger and more assured. "I'm ready now," she told him as she looked up at him suddenly with longing. "I just needed to hear those words. I cannot wait to get back here tonight and I promise to make it up to you," she continued, voice low and seductive. And the words she whispered to him next, along with her passionate kiss and touch, assured him that she was more confident again.

"This had better be a damned quick meeting," he protested as he got up and attempted to think about the case, about anything not related to Callie, to keep his self- control. It had only been a year and a half since IT had happened. She had come so far, had been completely honest with him, and she trusted him implicitly. And while she was fine- really good- the vast majority of the time, sometimes she… wasn't. And the least he could do was to support her in any way he could, give her whatever she needed. Her situation was heartbreaking and complex, but it always worked out, because she was that strong and he was that patient. And they truly loved each other.

He felt her wrap an arm around his waist as they went to leave. "I'll tell you about my realization about your brother on the way," she said to him.

As they began their long walk to the Smytheville Inn, and he listened to her words, heard her total honesty about what she and Joe had in common, how her feelings towards Joe were starting to change, he felt a warmth, a relief, almost as if he had been holding onto hope so tightly it hurt to let go.

And she seemed happy again, and he knew she felt safe.

He stopped walking for a moment, hugged her tightly, and then continued on, holding her hand. No words needed to be spoken. He knew that she understood.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Wow. Look at this place," Callie said in a low voice to Frank as they waited in the lobby of the Inn. "It's beautiful. But…"

"Yeah, I know," Frank responded quietly. "It looks haunted. Strange," he concluded.

He and Callie had been let into the foyer of the Inn by a sweet-looking teenage girl named Sarah who had asked them to wait a few minutes while she got one of her uncles to meet with them. In the meantime, they had some time to look around the place.

It was an older stone building on the outside, built in the style of the homes in the mid 1800s. On the inside, however, the style was different. Clearly, years of renovations revealed a carefully cared for property, as the amenities seemed modern, but the finishes looked antique. The lighting, though, was the real showstopper. The halls were dark and up-lighted with sconces that set a mysterious and romantic tone. It was a place stuck in two worlds, somehow belonging to both and neither at the same time.

"It's so pretty, but I could see this place being eerie. I don't know that I'd pick it for a hot rendezvous," she whispered.

Frank raised his eyebrows and looked at her, questioningly. "Have a lot of experience planning those?" he joked.

Before Callie could reply, an older gentleman with silver hair and light blue eyes appeared from one of the corner rooms. He was dressed in casual period clothing, to Frank's surprise.

"Mr. Hardy?" he inquired, reaching over to shake Frank's hand. "I'm Charles Williams, one of the owners of the Inn. Please, call me Charlie." He looked over at Callie, surprised, before shaking her hand as well. "And this lovely young lady must be Jo."

Callie let out a small laugh and smiled warmly. "No, sir. Joe is Frank's brother. I'm Frank's girlfriend, Callie. Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Charlie responded. "A place like this always needs beauty to bring it to life."

Callie blushed and looked down, biting her lip, shyly.

Frank gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder before turning back to Charlie. "Thanks so much for seeing us, Charlie. My brother Joe had some important business to attend to tonight, so I thought Calle would make excellent company." He winked quickly at her. "Anyway, do you have a few minutes to talk?" he asked.

"Sure, sure. Of course. Come on in," he answered, beckoning them to follow him. "Sarah!" he called into a room as they passed. "Can you bring in some iced tea, honey?"

As they walked, Frank scrutinized his surroundings. "This is a nice place you've got here," Frank said nonchalantly.

"Ah, thank you. Isn't it? I love it." He shook his head for a moment before leading them into a fashionable room, decorated in Civil War decor. He indicated for them to have a seat. Not a minute later, Sarah arrived with the iced tea.

"Sarah, would you mind showing Callie around the Inn? We've just recently restored a lot of the rooms, and I think she would enjoy seeing them." Seeing Callie's surprised expression, he spoke up. "I'm sorry, darlin'," he said to her, kindly. Frank noticed the way he looked at her and immediately felt on guard. "The truth is, I just love showing the place off. I shouldn't have presumed that you'd like to see it. You're more than welcome to stay."

"No," Callie replied, smiling. "No offense taken. I'd love to look around, actually. I'm sure Frank will be fine without me for a while," she joked. "Sarah?" Callie asked, and Sarah nodded enthusiastically.

"Sure- we can start on the right wing, first floor. That's where we keep the period tableware. Come on."

Callie got up and followed Sarah out of the room, waving goodbye to the men.

Frank felt his protective streak kick in and was about to question the host on why he was staring at his girlfriend, when he was pre-empted by Charlie. "Gosh, she's pretty," he said, almost wistfully. "She reminds me of what my late wife used to look like at that age. She's got a sweetness about her, your little lady," Charlie went on. "Maybe it's an old soul. I know these things. I think she's a keeper."

Frank laughed in spite of himself. "Sir, no offense, but I've met you for all of five minutes. But, yes- I'm planning on keeping her if she'll have me." There was something about this guy that he liked despite his eccentricity. He was inviting, a real grandfatherly type, and, at least for the moment, he seemed more than willing to talk.

Charlie smiled and offered him a cookie, which Frank accepted graciously. "So how can I help you, son? Police Chief Cruz, a real nice man, called me and asked me to meet with you tonight. He said you'd be helping him look into what happened here the other night." His face grew grim.

"I'd like to," Frank responded. "Callie and I were part of a tour group that passed by here the other night. I was injured."

Charlie's eyes squinted. "I'm sorry about that, son, I really am. But I have no insurance money to pay you off. Did you tell the Chief that you came here to blackmail me?"

Frank held up his hand. "Whoa. That's not why I'm here. I was very lucky; I know accidents happen. Why? Have other people threatened you with lawsuits? I understand there have been some, uh, mysterious goings- on around here lately."

Charlie hesitated before answering. "You could say that."

"Say what?" Frank asked. "That there have been strange things going on, or that you've been threatened with lawsuits?"

"Both," Charlie sighed.

"When did it start?" Frank asked, curious.

"Can you indulge an old man for a moment?" Charlie asked in response, and Frank nodded as Charlie indicated for him to get up and led him to a grand open room down the hallway. He walked with Frank to the far wall, where, behind an old fashioned piano, and hanging on antique wallpaper, were several photographs.

"These are pictures of my family for the last several generations. The Inn has been in the family for almost 200 years. Sure, it's expanded many times over the years, but it's been here-our heart and home-since pre-Civil War times." He pointed out family members proudly, and Frank was drawn to the warmth in his voice as he pointed out member after member.

"My grand-daddy and grand-mama turned this place from a huge private estate to a bed and breakfast, and my parents worked here as well. The place was passed down when they died to me and my brother Harry- he goes by Hank, and my sister, Emily. She never wanted anything to do with the business, so she moved with her family to Ohio thirty years ago, though they visit often. Sarah is Emily's daughter. She and Emily haven't always gotten along so well, so we told her she could stay here for the summer with us and after that if she chooses. She's a real sweet kid; helps with the books and things. Nowadays, everything is done on computers, all that www. Whatever. com stuff that's way too complicated for an old geezer like me." He pushed the glasses he wore back on his nose. "She's seventeen, and if she establishes residency here for a year, she can go to Penn State one day and get some in-state tuition discounts. It works out well for everyone involved."

Frank nodded, listening patiently, wondering where this was going.

"Look at that picture," he said, picking a frame up from the piano. "This is my Cora."

Frank looked at the picture and felt a smile come to his face.

"You see it, eh?" Charlie said, chuckling. "She's a beauty, and she looks a lot like your girl. Oh, she was taller and curvier, but the coloring, the smile... very similar."

"I see it," Frank replied warmly.

"Cora and I, we loved this place. Raised our family here. When the boys grew up and moved out, we had several good years together. And then, well..." he looked at Frank, "I lost her. Cancer," he said, quietly.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Frank replied, sincerely. "Was it long ago?"

'About five years," he replied, in a wistful voice.

Frank looked at a picture of Cora and Charlie and their boys. "You have a beautiful family."

"I do. Thank you," he acknowledged. He looked at Frank. "I wanted to show you this, Frank, so that you had a sense of the history of the place. When Cora passed, my brother Hank came to live here with me. He's a few years younger, bit of a wild child in his younger years. Kid brothers usually are."

Frank chuckled. "I have one. I can relate."

Charlie grinned. "Well, when Hank came here, it took some getting used to, but things were going along really nicely after a bit. We redecorated and expanded, but still do a lot of things the old fashioned way- we dress of the time, have re-enactors and put on plays, cook using old fashioned recipes. And we were doing real well. Making money, but having fun. Keeping the history alive."

"Until what?" Frank queried.

Charlie's eyes darkened. "About a year ago, strange things started happening. Oh, they were little at first- unexplained noises, things moving around or being misplaced- in a way, it added to the coziness of the place. I used to think it was Cora, up in heaven, telling these new cooks we have here not to mess with her recipes."

"You never know," Frank answered kindly.

"Then the rumors started getting worse. People talking about moaning and screaming and the pain of the wounded- the Inn used to be a field hospital during the Battle here in 1863," he added.

"I heard that on the ghost tour," Frank validated.

"Dang tours," Charlie grumbled. "We never used to be in the ghost tour route, and that all changed. Now we are part authentic Inn and part spectacle."

"When did the Inn get on the route? Was it recently?"

"About a year ago. It was sporadic at first, then, when that poor lady died, people went crazy. They swear she was killed by a ghost. Me? I lean to pneumonia. And the chills that people supposedly get are from the air and heating systems that need some updating. But you can't stop people from talking, and some mediums or whatever the heck they're called always want to come here and commune with the dead. It's terrible."

Frank made a mental note to see if he could get access to the cause of death of the woman. "What about lawsuits?"

"Three threatened so far because of "injuries" and "fright"- nothing has come of them so far."

"Would you mind if I took a look at the room where the windows were shot out last night?" Frank asked Charlie, who shrugged and told him to "suit himself" as he led him to the top floor.

As Frank walked with Charlie, he couldn't help but to notice the care that had gone into preserving the place. Before he entered the room, Charlie turned to Frank.

"Take as long as you need. I'll see if Cor- ugh… Callie… is back with Sarah."

Over the course of the next twenty minutes or so, Frank scoured the room. Clearly, someone had been up here, other than the police. Mathematically computing distance and velocity, he soon determined what would have been an approximate hiding spot for a potential shooter. Any other evidence, though, looked to have been removed.

After returning downstairs, and thanking Charlie for his time, Frank was finally able to leave with Callie. Charlie had extended the offer for Frank and Callie to stay there, free of charge, tomorrow night. Given that Joe and Van would be at the Devil's Den camp out, and that it would be a good opportunity to talk with Charlie more at length, Frank and Callie had accepted.

It was almost midnight by the time they left.

"Remind me why we didn't take a cab," Callie said to him, as she squeezed his hand. But Frank remained quiet as they strolled.

"What did you find out?" Callie asked him after a few minutes.

"A lot, actually," he admitted, and he then spent the next fifteen minutes relating everything to her.

"I like him," Callie said quietly. "He's cute."

Frank laughed, brought out of his mind and to the present again with Callie. "Geez. First you're thinking about Joe and now Charlie. And Charlie has a little soft spot for you, Ms. Old Soul Beauty."

Callie rolled her eyes and grinned softly.

"But yeah- I know what you mean," Frank went on. "He seemed really upset about everything. I think he wants to preserve everything that he and his wife worked so hard to build. This must be pretty hard for him."

"Yeah," Callie responded absently. "You know, Sarah finally opened up a little to me as well," Callie replied. "You might find this interesting."

"Go on," Frank said. "We have a good twenty minutes before we get back, so all you!"

"Well," Callie started, "I guess I'll cut to the interesting parts. Sarah told me the same thing, basically, as Charlie told you about how much he loves the place, but she added a little. Apparently, a local realtor has wanted to buy the place for years, and has been stopping by again a lot. The property value has skyrocketed based on the Inn's location, and apparently the realtor is representing someone who is willing to pay top dollar for the site. Only he wants to tear down the Inn and make condos; has blueprints and everything. But Charlie and Hank don't want to sell, and neither does she, even though she says there's a lot of money on the line."

"Hmmm," Frank replied, thoughtful. "I wonder if all this ghost and haunting business have to do with that. Maybe someone wants to make it appear as a bad place so that they'll pay less for the property."

"Or maybe someone is hoping that by disparaging the reputation of the Inn, Charlie and Hank will _want t_ o get rid of it. If they can't make ends meet, they'll give it away or be less likely to hold onto it for sentimental value."

"Also possible," Frank acknowledged with a smile.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Callie asked as they arrived at their room and she opened the door.

Frank shrugged as he stretched. "Joe and I will need to investigate the scene of the first murder that took place. I want to see what Vanessa and Joe found out from Nellie today. You and Van can relax. Then I guess we will head back to the Inn at night if Joe and Van go camping."

"Okay," Callie acknowledged, taking her hair out of a ponytail and letting her long golden blonde hair fall down past her shoulders to the middle of her back. She shook her head as she went to the sink to wipe off any light makeup she had applied. Frank followed as he started to wind down from the evening.

"How's your head?" she asked. "You seem a lot better. Are you tired?"

Frank had removed his shirt and washed his face. "I could stay up," he said to her, meeting her eyes in the mirror and raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Or not." He winked at her as he then finished brushing his teeth, leaned down, and gave her a kiss on the cheek before returning to the bed.

There, Frank crossed his arms behind his head, thinking. He definitely needed to review the case with Joe, but he also wanted Joe's input on Charlie's case, which seemed like a classic case of sabotage, but still- he would like to help the old man. And then he really needed to figure out who had attacked them in the parking lot the other day, before he or Joe were targeted inexplicably again. There was a lot to consider, and they only had two or three days left here. Plus, Chet had texted earlier that he and Biff would be joining them tomorrow for the remainder of the trip, and for tomorrow at least, they could stay in this room until they could find local lodging.

It was a lot going on and he was so lost in thought that he barely had time to process that the lights had gone off, and Callie was sitting on the corner of the bed, looking down at him. "You okay, babe?" she asked.

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. The alarm clock showed 1:00 behind her. With the soft light of the clock reflecting off her golden hair, she looked like an angel to him. He tried not to think about it. "Wait. You're still dressed," he pointed out.

Callie leaned down to him, and whispered, "I thought you'd want to finish helping me. Those zippers can be tough."

And that was the last he thought of the cases, or anything at all except for Callie, for the rest of the night.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note** : _Thanks to those of you who have been reviewing. I do appreciate what you have to say. Thank you DrumBoy100, Red Hardy, EvergreenDreamweaver, hlahabibty, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, max 2013, Hero 76, BMSH, sm2003495, Caranath, and Orions Belte._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 9

The next morning, Frank knocked on Joe's door at 10:00, carrying coffee, bagels, and donuts with him. He yawned. It had been a long day yesterday, and he'd gotten little sleep, though that was really the last thing he'd complain about. He grinned at the thought.

"Morning," Joe greeted with a yawn. His eyes grew wide. "Food! Yes! I suddenly like you a whole lot more than I did two minutes ago!" He grabbed a cup of coffee and the entire bag of food from Frank's hand, waving him into the room.

Frank sat down and stretched as Joe tore into the food. "Where's Vanessa?" he asked. "Did she leave to see Callie yet? I didn't see her on the way in."

Joe nodded as he took a long sip of coffee. "Yeah. She actually left pretty early. She was excited when she found out that the Lodge here has some sort of agreement with the hotel down the street where guests can use the facilities in either place, and the second that she found out there was a pool, I think she texted Callie early and was out of here by 9:00! Why-didn't Callie tell you that?"

Frank shrugged. "Honestly, it was a busy morning. We got up at 6:00, went for a run, took showers, had breakfast, caught up again about the Inn and what we learned last night, and then she said something about going out with Vanessa today. I think we're meeting up tonight at 5:00 maybe? Did Biff text you that he was coming today with Chet, because Chet texted Callie."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. He did. That's cool, except how in the hell we'll be able to get Biff and Chet uniforms for this ridiculous ball tomorrow is beyond me."

"Somehow, I think they'll be okay skipping out on it," Frank replied. "I wouldn't be concerned about their feelings on this one." He grinned.

"Maybe they'll switch places with us?" Joe asked hopefully.

"You're really testing Vanessa this vacation, aren't you?" Frank answered back, shaking his head. "She's having fun with it. Let her enjoy it. It's only a night."

Joe groaned. "One night with pictures as evidence that'll last the rest of my life," he responded, dejected. "I can't see Iola ever…" he began, and then he shut his mouth immediately. What was he thinking?! Lately, she'd been on his mind all the time and he didn't understand why, though he found it disconcerting. Mindlessly, he reached for the necklace that he always wore that had attached to it the mangled keys Iola had clutched in her hands the day that she died. They hadn't been mangled, then.

Frank looked at him questioningly, but, before he could say anything, Joe put down his hand, bit into a second donut, and quickly changed the topic. "I can't believe that you and Callie get up so early and go for runs. What'd you have for breakfast? A protein shake?"

Frank blushed, letting Joe off the hook with the Iola comment for the moment.

"I knew it! Frank, you used to be so normal and eat like a regular person. I know you must have carbs and sugar at college," Joe went on, chuckling a bit.

"You and Vanessa never run?" Frank challenged him. "And excuse me if I happen to like eating healthy."

"Runs? With Vanessa?!" Joe asked, laughing. "Coffee runs, maybe. Possibly we walk by running water. Once, we even listened to Run DMC. Anyway," he continued, eyes twinkling, "you're clearly just jealous that my girl looks gorgeous and eats like a normal person and your girl eats alfalfa sprouts, organic edamame, whole grain, fat free, sugar free…"

"Joe!" Frank exclaimed, exasperated. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. Only you could make trying to live healthy and exercise a negative thing! Anyway, Callie told me that you guys went running together the other day."

"Yeah, well," Joe replied, finishing his second donut and going for a bagel, "I mean, there's a killer on the loose and all. Callie's a pain in the ass, but I don't hate her enough to want her to die."

"That's not remotely funny," Frank replied angrily, and Joe held up a hand indicating for him to calm down.

"I was kidding," Joe replied. "Chill. Yeah, we went out the other day and it didn't totally suck."

Frank's face was still red. "You know, she told me that she enjoyed her time with you. She told me… never mind. You obviously didn't see it the same way." He stood up, and Joe was shocked to see the look in his eyes. He truly appeared hurt.

"Hey," Joe replied gently, standing as well, placing a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm trying, okay? She's right. We had a good talk. She was fun, actually. You can't expect us to be best friends right away, Frank, but I'm trying and I think she is, too. A day at a time. There's a lot of water under that bridge, but we're off to a good start."

Finally, Frank took a deep breath, and Joe could see that he'd avoided that blow-up for the moment. "Okay," Frank muttered at last.

"So what happened last night with you? Did you and Callie go to the Inn?" Joe asked, happy for the change in topic.

"We did," Frank answered, "and it's pretty interesting, actually." He spent the next fifteen minutes filling Joe in on the events of last night. Joe listened attentively, but couldn't help the smirk that he felt come to his face.

"What?" Frank asked as he finished, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"Nothing," Joe replied, taking another sip of his coffee. "I was just picturing how Chet and Biff will even fit in the bed together while you and Callie are staying at the Inn." He laughed.

"THAT's what you got out of what I told you?" Frank queried, sighing.

"I mean, yeah. I almost can't wait for you to tell them!" he joked. "But otherwise, that's a pretty interesting story. I mean, seems to me like someone is setting up Charlie and Hank to get them to sell. Pretty straightforward case I'd think."

"Yeah," Frank replied, thoughtful. "I agree. The WHY is pretty clear, but the WHO isn't. And now it's getting pretty dangerous. It's not just ghost story lore anymore. Now, people are threatening lawsuits and are getting hurt." Frank pointed at his still very visible bruise on his forehead and cheek, "and who knows? Maybe there was some foul play with the woman who died there. If that's the case, we have a murder investigation and even if it's not, we have criminal activity going on. I'd like to look into it, if you're willing to help."

Joe noticed that Frank was serious, and became more serious, himself. "Sure, Frank. I'll help look into it. Now, you're going to have to help ME, because last night's interview was interesting, to say the least." He went on to fill Frank in about the interview with Nellie and Archie Pabst.

"You're not kidding that it's interesting," Frank answered. "So everything went normally except that Archie was chewing the same brand of gum found at the store, and he's left handed. Plus, nothing was taken. Hmmm. It's all circumstantial, but intriguing, for sure. Why would Archie attack his wife, though? What's the possible motive? He'd also have to have a connection to the other two cases, and is there any evidence of that? Didn't Chief Cruz say they'd been happily married for a long time?"

"Yup," Joe agreed. "And honestly- she didn't seem afraid of him. I don't know. I told you- that night when I looked in the window, I saw something that I can't remember, and this is kind of the same thing. Something just doesn't feel right with this case."

"So what do you want to do now?" Frank asked.

"Let's go to the scene of the first murder, do a little investigating, and then see where it goes. We could then head over to the second murder scene if there's time. I assume that you and Callie will deal with the Inn a little more tonight, but we could head there, too. I mean… Van and I could switch with you. You guys could camp at Devil's Den and we could stay at the Inn."

Frank laughed. "Nice try."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, eyes wide.

"Cut the innocent act. I will be happy to sleep in a nice, comfy bed tonight while you sleep in the dirt, heat, and humidity in one of the most haunted places in the country. Besides, Vanessa wants to do it," Frank reminded him. "Good luck changing plans."

Joe sighed. "It was worth a try." He reached for another bagel.

"How do you eat so much?" Frank asked in amazement.

"I'm a growing boy. I need sustenance. Not alfalfa," he replied with a laugh, and headed out the door with Frank behind him, rolling his eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Close to an hour later, after having reviewed some of the facts from the case, the brothers arrived at the antique shop on the outskirts of town. Joe parked the car and got out with Frank following behind him. Again, Chief Cruz had done them a favor and called ahead so that the shop owner, Peter Stobak, would be awaiting them.

As soon as they entered, they were greeted by an older gentleman in his late sixties. Heavyset and balding, he was sitting behind the counter and, unlike the other shop owners with whom they had come in contact on the trip, he was not dressed in period gear.

"Hardy brothers?" he asked, getting up to shake their hands.

When they nodded, he ushered them to a back room, indicating for a young man to take his place at the register. "Apologies," he began. "It's our busiest time of the year, and we need salespeople on the floor. How can I help you?"

Frank began. "We know that Chief Cruz called you, and we're assisting him on his investigation into the murder that occurred at your store not long ago. We were wondering if you could give us some information about that day."

Stobak's mouth formed into a frown. "I gave the police my statement," he said, defensively. "What more do you need to know?"

Joe sighed. His brother was an excellent investigator, could analyze facts from every conceivable angle, could form questions that methodically sought out answers. But where Frank was very strong with methodology, he was very strong with people. Joe had a feeling that those skills would be needed now.

Giving Stobak his most disarming smile, he cut Frank's line of questioning off. "Mr. Stobak, we heard what happened and I can only imagine how traumatizing it must have been for you. Sometimes, when we talk to the police, we get distracted or intimidated; that's completely understandable. We'd just like to hear what you might remember, no matter how insignificant. You're a victim here; we understand that."

Almost at once, Stobak seemed to relax a bit. Frank shot his brother a quick glance letting him know that he was with him and would shut up. Joe suppressed a smile. Even now, as young adults, it was fun to win out over Frank, even when the end goal was the same.

After a few minutes of setting Stobak at ease and reviewing the facts of the case of which they were already aware, Joe concluded with, "and so, sir, perhaps you can tell us a little more about the woman who worked here. Would anyone have had any personal grudges against her?"

"Maggie? Nah," he replied, dismissively. "She was a lovely girl; a genuinely nice person. She was so excited to finally get a job dealing with the appraisal of antiques. I mean, we're not the big city here, by any stretch, but we're an old business, make a decent profit, and still are able to educate people about history. We love it. Never had anything like this ever happen here. It's very upsetting," he finished.

"Of course," Frank chimed. "Can you go over one more time what happened?"

Stobak sat back and sighed deeply. "It was later in the day. There weren't too many customers. Tuesdays aren't a terribly busy night of the week. I told Maggie that I was going to run out and pick up a quick dinner for the both of us, which I did sometimes. When I came back… that's when I saw her. Stabbed, in a pool of blood on the floor."

"There were no signs of anything?" Frank asked. "No forced entry?"

"Was there a gum packet left behind?" Joe asked, innocuously.

"That's a first," Stobak replied, surprised. "The cops would know. Not that I know of. Why?"

"Just wondering," Joe answered lightly. "And no one had threatened her, as far as you know? And no one has threatened you?"

"No," Stobak answered, sadly. "Not at all."

"Mr. Stobak, was there anything unusual about that day? Or, perhaps, do you have a list of regular customers that we might be able to speak with?" Frank went on.

Stobak raised his brows in question. "I don't know. I don't think so. Why? You think she knew the person?"

"We have no idea," Joe replied, honestly. "But it helps to have all bases covered. It IS unusual that nothing was taken. It looks like a planned murder, not a robbery that ended in murder. So, it would stand to reason that something personal might have come into play. Do me a favor. If you think of anything- anything at all- in the next few days, give me a call." Joe reached for a pen and paper on a nearby table and wrote down his cell phone number. "That's my personal number. You won't have to deal with the police."

Stobak stared at the paper before raising his eyes to Joe. "Yes, I will. Thank you."

Joe just smiled and walked out, Frank following behind. When they reached the car, Frank turned to him. "So? Thoughts?"

"I've got nothing," Joe answered. "Except I think he knows something. Did you see the way he acted to me when I reminded him that he wouldn't have to work with the police? Or the way he hesitated and stared at my number? We'll hear from him. I just hope it's before Van has us scheduled to leave. Because if we're stuck here and the girls and Biff and Chet have to go with them to Hershey Park… you may just be investigating another murder alone-mine." He gave Frank a small grin. "Unless you're dead, too." He got into the car.

Frank sighed as he closed the passenger door behind him. This was quite possibly the least relaxing vacation they could have taken.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** _Many thanks to those of you who have left a review since the last chapter was posted: Hlahabibty, Drumboy100, sm2003495, Paulina Ann, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, max2013, BeeBee18, and Erin Jordan. I appreciate you taking the time to leave feedback-it certainly makes a difference!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 10

"Whaddddup Hardys!"

Before Joe could even process what was happening, he felt himself hugged from behind and knew immediately who it was. Breaking free of the half- embrace, half- tackle, he turned around, laughing, and gave Biff Hooper a quick high five and Chet Morton a quick fist- pound out.

"Well, half the Hardys, anyway!" Joe responded as he got out the key card to his room. "You guys are early!" He ushered them inside.

He and Frank had just arrived back at the Lodge not fifteen minutes earlier. Frank had run back to his room to grab some waters and snacks, since he and Vanessa hadn't exactly prepared well. After a brief break, they had been planning to go to investigate the second murder, not expecting Chet or Biff until at least 5:00, and it was barely 1:00.

Chet looked around appreciatively while Biff plopped down on the bed. "Nice place here!" Chet said. "Can't wait to see our room!"

At that moment, Frank appeared and almost jumped back when Chet and Biff shouted their greetings. "Hey, guys!" he exclaimed, enthusiastically. "You're here early."

"Oh my god. You're morphing into one person. Joey over there just said that!" Biff exclaimed, as Chet happily grabbed a package of cookies from Frank.

"Oh, man! Snickerdoodles! My favorite!" Chet said happily, reaching into the bag. "We're starving. We need to get lunch now or I may fade away."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Enjoy," he said dryly. "I wouldn't want you to starve." Continuing, he said, "But why so early?"

"Because," Biff sighed dramatically. "I missed my room- mate!" With those words, he held out his arms to Joe, who was laughing."Come here. We need to snuggle."

Joe shrugged his shoulders and sat next to Biff, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his shoulder. "Ah. Much better," Joe said. "You were so right. Gosh, you're dreamy."

Chet shook his head in disbelief and Frank sighed. The sight of 6'5'' Biff next to 6'0" Joe, both blonde, blue-eyed, muscular football players in each other's arms on the bed pretending to be long lost lovers or whatever they were thinking was so stupid he had no words for it. But that was Joe and Biff; best friends from way, way back- equally funny, loud, impulsive, and competitive. They were so bad for each other, constantly daring each other to complete asinine tasks and challenging each other to feats of athleticism, perpetually stuck as twelve year olds. At the same time, Frank had always liked Biff. He was loyal and silly and looked out for Joe, and vice versa.

"Okay. That's enough," Joe said, sitting up. He promptly shoved Biff to the other side of the bed. Biff just snorted.

"We got a head start," Chet cut in. "Callie kind of filled me in on what was going on, and I told Hooper, and we figured we'd help. After lunch, of course!" Chet added, grabbing another cookie. "Where are the girls, anyway?"

"Swimming," Joe replied easily.

Frank raised his eyebrows, surprised, as he watched Chet eat and Biff and Joe banter. It didn't surprise him anymore that Callie talked to Chet a fair amount of the time. He noticed that as lighthearted as Chet was acting, there was the slightest bit of holding back when Joe was around. It was unfortunate.

For as long as Frank could remember, he, Joe, and Chet had been very close friends. As they'd gotten older, the bond had only increased, though there were subtle changes: Joe and Biff had become very tight, Chet and Tony hung out more, and he and Phil got close. But it was always Chet who tied everyone together. Through the years, Frank had found himself pulling away just a bit when he'd fallen in love with Callie, and he ended up spending a lot of his free time with her. His only struggle was the fact that Callie and Joe fought incessantly, something they obviously were not quite over. For everyone else, though, girls came and went, until Iola and Joe became a couple.

And they were fiery and passionate and fun and … complicated. They loved each other; it was definitely the real deal. But jealousy and flirting and hot tempers and immaturity kept interfering in their relationship, and their year and a half together was always a whirlwind. But it had been okay with Chet, with all of them, watching Joe and Iola.

Until she died, and suddenly it wasn't okay anymore.

Joe hadn't been able to face Chet right away. When they finally did speak, it was strained. Frank knew that Joe would always blame himself for Iola's death, and hence he would never be able to look at Chet again without some semblance of guilt underscoring everything. And Chet, he knew, didn't really blame Joe for anything, but, at the same time… he did, a little. He'd lost his sister, and the circumstances of that day, Joe's flirting which precipitated Iola running to their car first, and resulting in her death, didn't help. So they'd rebuilt their relationship the past three years, and, to a casual observer, it was as solid as ever. And it was, except that it was almost too carefree and laid back and filled with joking. Any real depth and substance had been lost. For all of Biff and Joe's nonsense, they were really close, like brothers, and Frank was glad that Joe had someone he could always rely on.

And when Joe had finally, _finally_ started to awake from the hell in which he had imprisoned himself after Iola's death, and started to get serious with Vanessa, Frank knew it was hard for Chet, who did like Vanessa- a lot- but who also saw her as Iola's replacement. It didn't help that Joe wore those damned keys all the time. To this day, Frank didn't know how Vanessa put up with it, but she did. To Chet, it was a constant reminder of Iola's death. So they remained friends, certainly, but not as close as they once had been.

Frank couldn't help but wish that everyone would just sit and talk: Joe and Chet, Joe and Callie, Joe and Vanessa. The common thread was Joe.

The thing that he understood about Joe that no one else did was that Joe's biggest enemy was himself; he was still fighting the demons of Iola's death, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that he wouldn't let Joe fight alone. He had healed so much and was such a genuinely good person that if he needed time, it was fine with him. Perhaps it was not fine with Vanessa, understandably, Callie, frustratingly, and Chet, sadly, but with him- he'd have all the time in the world. He would not let Joe hurt himself again, which is what he always did when he was in pain- he'd rather self -destruct than to hurt anyone else, and, in a weird, twisted way, Frank found that wonderfully admirable… though he'd be damned if he would let it happen again on his watch.

In a twist of fate, he and Chet had become closer again. Chet was, deep down, more quiet than he let on, and more serious. Frank knew that, by nature, he was also that way. And Chet had been the one person, other than Vanessa, who had kept in touch with Callie when they'd been separated, a bond forged when Chet had become Callie's date on many an occasion in high school when he was away on a case or called away at the last minute. Callie had finally accepted that part of his life, though it had taken awhile, and it worked out great: she was delighted to spend time with someone who was fun and laid back, who appreciated her for her intellect and sense of humor, and Chet was happy to have made another friend, and it didn't hurt his own dating game to have a beautiful girl on his arm who made him inherently more interesting to the single ladies.

"Frank, I know I'm good-looking, man, but why are you staring at me?" Biff asked.

Frank snapped out of his reverie and chuckled. "Sorry. I was just thinking. Honestly, Biff, you caught me. It's just that you ARE good looking- obviously," he joked with a wry grin.

"I always liked your brother more than you," Biff quipped to Joe, who smacked him with a pillow.

"So what's the plan? Team Hoody is ready!" Biff went on.

Frank stared at him.

"Hooper and Hardy. Duh," Biff stated.

"Mmmm hmmm," Frank replied dryly. "How could I have missed something so clear?"

"And where's our room?" Chet asked, finishing eating. "This place is nice. Vanessa knows how to book things!" he said, happily.

"About that…" Joe began, hesitating when he saw Biff look at him questioningly and Chet stare at him. "It's a bit of a mess tonight. Van booked us to do this sleepover thing at Devil's Den, and Callie and Frank are staying at that Inn that you guys know about- that place where all the "ghost" hauntings are supposedly taking place. Since you originally weren't coming until tomorrow, you don't technically have a room. I guess you could share this one…" Joe teased.

"Oh _hell_ no!" Biff countered. "Morton's okay and all, but sharing a bed is taking it too far."

"I appreciate your loyalty to me there," Joe replied with a straight face, referring to the past five minutes, and Biff shook his head, holding back a laugh. "You're welcome, Joe." He gave him an exaggerated wink. Joe was chuckling.

Frank sighed. "Well, I guess one of you could stay in my room and one could stay here. That'd be fine," Frank added, logically.

"What's that camping thing?" Biff asked.

"The Devil's Den?" Joe clarified, and, when Biff nodded, Joe told him the details that Vanessa had found out.

"I'll go! There have to be spots open, and it sounds more fun than hanging back here."

"Okay!" Joe agreed readily, ignoring the look that Frank shot him.

"Hold on," Frank said, as he slipped out the door to make a few phone calls. Fifteen minutes later, he returned to see Chet, Biff, and Joe in the middle of an argument about attending the ball the following night. "Guys!" he said, exasperated. "Here's what's happening. Gettysburg is really crowded now, so reservations are hard to get. Here's what I took care of. First, you two are not going to the ball. It's been sold out for months. You're welcome. Next, Biff, I called the tourist center and they had literally one tent not reserved, so you're in tonight. I called Charlie Williams at the Inn and Chet, you can stay there tonight with me and Callie. There are two rooms reserved anyway. I also called Callie. The girls will be back here in an hour and Joe and I will check out a lead in the investigation while you all settle in. After that, we'll have dinner and go our separate ways. Does that work?"

Chet grinned. "Can I rent you to organize my life?" he joked.

"Just go get your bags from the car," Frank answered, "and do an early check- in at the lobby for tomorrow."

As soon as the guys headed out, Joe turned to Frank. "Why did you look at me when Biff asked to come tonight to the camp? And how the heck did you get two rooms at the Inn tonight? That place is always booked, even with everything."

Frank blushed a bit and cleared his throat. "Uh, Charlie had apparently reserved two rooms for me and Callie. He said since we weren't married he assumed that would work just fine."

Joe burst out laughing.

"Shut up, Joe!" Frank responded, defensively. "Anyway, now Chet can get the other room. I was just making sure about Biff before. You know, Vanessa planned this and was all excited to spend time with you. I didn't know if she would appreciate it if Biff suddenly showed up, that's all."

"Vanessa loves Biff. It's not an issue," Joe answered defensively.

"I hope not," Frank muttered.

"What?" Joe asked.

"Nothing," he replied. "Anyway, let's go. We have a quick stop to make at the jail. Let's see what we can find out."

Shaking his head at his brother, Joe followed him outside, silently wishing that Frank would get off his case about both Vanessa and Callie. He could handle his own relationship without Frank's interference. Callie Shaw should keep him busy enough. Fighting back his irrational anger, he bit his tongue, for once grateful that a mystery could distract him from thinking about his own life.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Okay. I think I'll take the lead this time," Frank told Joe as they were waiting to speak with Jaden Munoz, the boyfriend of the second victim, at the Gettysburg County jail.

"Okay," Joe acquiesced, not in the mood to argue.

Frank inwardly sighed. His brother was going to be in some well- deserved trouble with Vanessa and he hated to see him ignore the elephant in the room with Chet and seemingly be unable to consistently try to get along with Callie. Joe really needed to settle down and get his act together, but if there was one way to get Joe to ignore him completely, it was by a lecture. Impulsively, he reached over and gave him a hug.

Joe, surprised, hugged Frank back quickly and let out a small breath. He didn't even know why he was all wound up, but he was. He'd had an anxious feeling ever since Vanessa had planned this trip months ago, and it has gotten worse all the time. He couldn't seem to get Iola out of his mind, do the right thing with Vanessa, and sort out his feelings towards Callie. _Women._ For the smallest of moments, he wished he was a kid again, when he could solve all his issues by a good paintball fight or playing pretend games in forts and getting covered in dirt; sports reigned supreme and life's biggest issues were easily solved with a good dinner and talk with his big brother.

"Thanks," he said quietly, and Frank just rubbed his back gently and winked. He always understood.

Shortly after, Frank and Joe were escorted to a small room in which Jaden Munoz was located. A furtive looking man with dark hair and dark eyes, he swallowed nervously when the brothers approached.

"You...uh… I was told that you wanted to talk to me?" he asked, fidgeting. "You're detectives or something? Little young, aren't you?"

Joe stood quietly as Frank spoke. "Yes and yes. Look, Mr. Munoz, we know that you're being held until you can meet bail on a DUI charge, but that's not why we're here, as I'm sure you've been told. We wanted to discuss with you what happened the night that your… girlfriend.. was murdered."

"I didn't do it, man. I told the cops that. But you all think I did and I'm being held on a bogus charge until they find enough to frame me. Jennifer died, okay? She was murdered. I had nothin' to do with it."

Frank leaned forward. "Let me be direct here. Jennifer was not your girlfriend. She was a prostitute and we've heard you were her pimp. Let's just get that straight."

"It was a business relationship," he said defensively.

"Whatever," Frank responded. "I really don't care what you call it. Can you please review for us what happened the night she died? We are working with the police to solve this crime, and we would like your help."

"Why should I?" Munoz countered. "What good does it do me?"

"I'll be sure to tell Chief Cruz how cooperative you've been. It couldn't hurt to have him on your side."

"On my side?" Munoz repeated, incredulous. "He's trying to frame me."

"No, he's not," Joe chimed in. "And quite frankly, we don't believe you had anything to do with the murder. There was a murder before Jennifer Dansky and an attempted attack after her. We can't find a connection between you or Jennifer and the woman who died first, and the last attack occurred this week while you've been in jail. So if you're cooperative, we'll see what we can do to get this moving and get you out of here."

"Are you for real?" Munoz asked, eyes wide.

Joe nodded.

"All right, man. Okay. What do you need to know?"

Frank spoke up again. "The night that Jennifer died, explain what happened. Don't leave anything out and don't sugarcoat it. We've read the file, and we just want to hear it directly from you."

Slowly Munoz nodded. "We're not local, you know? Me and my girls- we're from Philly. Jennifer- she got a request from our online escort site and it was to come out here. She didn't have no way to get here, and I was coming anyway- got family not too far- so I gave her a ride. Dropped her off at the motel. When I came to get her, she was dead. I tried to help her, man. That's how I got the blood on my clothes. I swear it."

"Whoa," Frank replied, cutting him off. "That story has a lot of holes. When you dropped her off, what did you see?"

"Nothing, man. It was dark. I dropped her off."

"And how did you know to pick her up?" Joe asked. "How could she have called you if she was dead? That tends to limit communication."

"Look," Munoz sighed. "I know these jobs. She was supposed to meet with her client for two hours and get picked up at midnight. I got back a little early and waited."

"So why did you go into the room? And how? I'd imagine that's not good for business if meetings occasionally run over," Frank replied, careful with his wording.

Munoz looked away. "All right, man. I'll tell you. Sometimes, you know, if the opportunity is right, you can see into some of these rooms. It helps pass the time if you arrive early; know what I'm saying?"

Joe shook his head in disgust, but Frank persisted. "The question remains- what did you see?"

After a minute, Muniz answered, and he looked upset. "I… to be honest, it wasn't good. Things looked like they were getting rough. We don't do that- not unless you pay extra and we know in advance."

Frank bit his lip. If there was one thing he couldn't stomach, it was the thought of violence against women, especially sexual violence. He felt a sweat break out on his head, his face flush, and his jaw clench.

Joe looked at Frank and was shocked by his change in demeanor. He looked like he was going to hit the guy. Munoz backed off a bit and Joe gently placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"So what happened?" Joe asked. "He was assaulting Jennifer. And then?"

"I was about to go in. I got out of my car. It was late, but there were people around and you could hear screams from the room, man. I started running to the room when all of a sudden I heard a scream from somewhere- it was probably Jennifer- and then shots rang out. I ran inside. The client had run like hell out of the room, but Jennifer was dead. I went to help her, but it was too late."

"She screamed?" Joe asked. "She must have seen something. So why did the police think you're involved, other than your connection to illicit activities and the fact that you had her blood on you?"

Munoz sighed, exasperated, as Joe noticed that Frank was taking slow, controlled breaths, which he recognized as an attempt to calm down. Ignoring it for the moment, Joe raised his hands, indicating that he needed an answer.

"Listen, man. I don't know. I was outside the motel when the shots went off, and the police said the shots came from outside. They think I fired into the room. I don't own no gun."

Joe shot him a look that clearly showed he didn't believe him.

"Okay, fine. I own a gun, man, but I didn't have it with me that day. And besides, who the hell carries a gun from the Civil War? That's some weird sh-t."

"What did you say?" Frank asked, focused again at last.

"Jennifer. She died when she was shot, by a bullet from the War. You didn't know that?" he asked, surprised.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Munoz," Joe responded quickly. "We'll talk to the Chief for you."

Five minutes later, outside the jail, Joe turned to Frank. "What the hell is going on here?" he asked. "Victim 1 was stabbed. Victim 2 was shot by a bullet from the Civil War. Vanessa and I stopped a crime in progress that was a stabbing again. Someone tried to shoot us with a gun from the War. Are we dealing with multiple people here?"

Frank shook his head, furrowing his brows. "I really don't know, Joe, but be careful. We don't even know what we're looking for."

Completely confused, they headed to the car, having no idea what the night would hold in store.


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** _I am very grateful for those of you following the story and especially for the kind reviews that have been left. For the reviews since the last chapter was posted, thank you to Paulina Ann, Hero 76, Man UTD, Drumboy100, BeeBee18, BMSH, sm2003495, hlahabibty, ErinJordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, Orions Belte, and max2013._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 11

Close to an hour later, everyone reconvened back at the lodge. Vanessa and Callie were sporting deep golden tans, having returned from spending the greater part of the morning and early afternoon sunbathing and swimming.

Callie and Frank sat on chairs near the small table adjacent to the window, Vanessa sat on Joe's lap on the couch, and Biff and Chet sat on opposite ends of the bed. All were eager to plan the rest of the day.

Vanessa forced her countenance into a smile as she listened to Biff and Joe make plans for the campout at Devil's Den that evening. Callie had told her about the boys' earlier arrival and Biff's plan to camp with her and Joe, as sort of a heads-up after Callie had received the text from Frank. She was glad that Callie had told her; it had given her enough time to control her anger and frustration about this trip and to at least pretend that things were okay at the moment.

She had worked so hard to plan this trip, and it was a complete and total bust. Not only had Joe gotten involved in a mystery, as usual, but also now they were stuck at Gettysburg for the foreseeable future, with Lancaster county, Hershey Park, and even Philly barely a remote possibility. She probably could have even tolerated that, had Joe been attentive and romantic. Instead, he'd been slightly distant and distractible. Now, with Biff here, there was barely any hope of romance and personal time. While that didn't seem to be bothering Joe all that much, it was starting to hurt her deeply.

"Okay, Van?"

She heard her name and was snapped from her reverie when she felt Joe squeeze her around the waist and saw all eyes trained on her.

"Oh. What? I'm sorry. I didn't hear you," she admitted sheepishly.

"Probably dreaming of your sexy man," Joe teased her, and she felt the color rush to her face. He had no idea.

"We were just saying that maybe I'll go with Frank and the guys for a little while to do some sightseeing. The monuments are lovely and there's so much to see. We may head up to where Pickett's Charge took place, since it's the day of the anniversary. Joe wanted to spend some time with you alone," Callie said with a warm smile and a small wink. Callie knew how upset she had been all day.

Vanessa was shocked. "Really?" she asked, afraid to hope.

"Absolutely, babe," Joe replied, giving her a kiss on the cheek while ignoring Biff's catcall. He looked in her eyes. "I know this isn't turning out exactly the way you planned, and I feel bad. We all do. So let's try to make the most of it. We'll meet back here at 6:00, and then Biff will come with us while Chet, Callie, and Frank head to the Inn. Then tomorrow we can do whatever you'd like before the Ball. Biff and Chet won't be attending."

"I'm really disappointed but I'll get over it," Biff sighed dramatically while Chet rolled his eyes. Vanessa had a feeling that he was being sarcastic, but she chose not to take it that way, opting for optimism.

"Frank and I have a little sleuthing to work on tomorrow, but basically you make the plans and we all show up." He rested his head over her shoulder. "And in the meantime, babe, it's me and you for a few hours."

Vanessa felt her heart beating a bit more quickly. Maybe they could salvage things after all.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A half an hour later, she and Joe were walking hand in hand through the heart of the town, and she was starting to relax a little.

"You okay, Van?" Joe asked her, as she stopped to look in a window at the beautiful time period pottery.

"Isn't that gorgeous?" she asked, pointing to a white plate decorated with a dark blue swirl design.

Joe peered at it more closely. "Uh… sure? It just doesn't strike me as something you'd like. Just surprised, that's all," he said with a shrug. "Want to get some ice cream?" he asked, eyes alight with happiness as he spotted a local shop with a long line. "If it's crowded, the ice cream has to be good!"

Vanessa turned to him, and finally said "sure," in a small voice.

Joe's whole face lit up. "I'll get it for us! I'll get cups so the ice cream doesn't melt- it's so hot! I'll get your favorite- vanilla bean. You can wait here and window shop all you'd like. It shouldn't be long." He gave her a quick kiss and crossed the street to join the long line of people.

Vanessa turned back to the window, suddenly very sad. How could Joe not have known that she loved plates like that? She lived in an old farmhouse in Bayport when she wasn't at college, for goodness sake. Her mom had a collection of period pottery and plates, all in blues, whites, and creams. _Because he barely knows my mom. Because he hasn't been to my house all that much._

She briefly thought of Frank, who had a key to Callie's apartment in California, who knew the passcode to Callie's phone and she to his, though she swore she had never even looked. They even had spare keys to each other's cars, "just in case", and neither thought anything of it. She and Joe had nothing like that. He had never asked or offered.

Suddenly, the weight of everything started to hit her. The forgetting of the anniversary, the mention of Iola, the distance, the damned keys he always wore, the invitation to Biff, the lack of knowledge about the plates. But she could deal with all of that. What she couldn't deal with was the vanilla bean.

Butter pecan. It had _always_ been butter pecan.

Eyes swimming with tears, she turned the opposite way down the street, needing to be even more alone than she already was.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe squinted his eyes in the sun, having forgotten his sunglasses, and tried to balance two huge cups of ice cream. "Van?" he called out, not seeing her in the throngs of people.

He sighed as he grabbed one of the few open tables set up along the sidewalk by the ice cream parlor. Where was she? He took a moment to collect himself. There were tons of people in broad daylight, and she had to be fine. She couldn't have been gone for more than fifteen minutes.

With a shrug, he sat down and started digging into his ice cream, allowing his mind to wander. This case was really pretty complicated. There was seemingly no pattern to what was occurring, other than the fact that all three victims were female. Maybe attacks were alternating between gunshots and stabbings? If so, that was pretty unusual. It was bothering him that at every scene someone, himself included- seemed to know something that wasn't yet revealed.

When he and Vanessa had stumbled upon Nellie's attack, he had seen something that was bothering him, but it was buried so deep he couldn't seem to retrieve it or even to swear that it had been there at all. In the first attack at the bookstore, the man they had spoken to seemed to want to say more, but he was also holding back. And that pimp had mentioned something about a scream that wasn't sitting right, even now. Plus, there was the question- the very big question- of why someone had tried to kill him and Frank at the police station. What did they know that they didn't know that they knew? He smiled at the awkward nature of the question.

Looking up as he finished his ice cream, he still didn't see Vanessa. _She must be really into the shopping,_ he thought momentarily. Still, just to be sure, he sent her a quick text and waited to hear back, continuing his train of thought. Noting that Vanessa's ice cream was half melted already, he shrugged and smiled, starting to spoon hers out as well. _I'll just buy her another one. It was meant to be!_

As he ate slowly, he continued to think about the case, realizing that Frank had stumbled upon a completely separate case and had been injured. He hadn't even started to help Frank out with that one- maybe tomorrow before the Ball he could do so.

With a heavy sigh, Joe found himself suddenly not hungry. He checked his phone- nothing. Maybe the cell phone reception was poor here?

He got up, threw away the trash, and started making his way back to the last store where he had seen Vanessa. Mindlessly, he touched the keys that hung from his neck and felt the slightest bit of comfort.

After fifteen minutes, as he headed back towards the town center, he was starting to get concerned. Before he could think about it, he felt his phone buzz as a text came in.

 _I'm fine. Went back to room to rest. Not feeling well._

He stared at the message, his stomach feeling a bit off. There was nothing wrong, per se, with it. But there was no feel of Vanessa- no apology, as she would normally put, not little emojis, no "love you". Had she EVER sent a text to him and NOT said "I love you?" Again, he felt off. That bothered him. Telling her that he loved her was second nature now.

As he approached the Gettysburg Tour Center, he looked up and literally walked right into Callie, who almost dropped her purse. Grabbing it quickly for her, he forced a smile. "Hey. Aren't you supposed to be looking at monuments or something?" he asked.

He noticed she had a mischievous smile when she looked up at him, quickly adjusting her ponytail. "Aren't you supposed to be on a romantic stroll with your girlfriend?"

"I was," he replied, finding it easier at the moment to just answer her instead of being sarcastic. "She wasn't feeling well and she wanted to rest back at the hotel. I guess she wanted to be able to enjoy the camping tonight."

Callie raised her brow. "Hmm. She was fine all day. Hope she's okay." The way she said it made him feel defensive, as if she knew something but wasn't telling him. Someone else holding back.

"Yeah. Me, too," he replied evenly. "Why are you alone? It's not really safe for you to be out here by yourself. Where're the guys?"

She smiled. "Aw, Joe. I'd almost think you cared," she joked with him.

"Not really. But my brother would." As soon as he said it, he cringed. He didn't mean to sound like an ass, but he was thinking about Vanessa and he was incredibly anxious and uptight for some reason. "Sorry," he muttered.

Callie looked hurt, but, to her credit, he noted, she didn't egg him on. Still, the laid back demeanor she had just showed him was gone, replaced by what he recognized as a cool detachment. "Biff's with Frank at a store outside town looking at camping things for tonight. I'm with Chet, but he's inside the tourist building- it's mobbed- looking for souvenirs."

"So why aren't you with him?" he asked. "If you say you're going to stay with him, as I'm sure my brother asked you to do, then do it. There's a murderer out here Callie. Don't be stupid."

He saw the color rise to her face. "Goodbye, Joe," she said angrily, turning and walking away quickly, heading further away from Chet.

Muttering under his breath, he counted to fifty before he took off after her, a rather formidable feat with the streets this crowded. He saw her turn down a quieter street and grabbed her arm.

He was taken aback when she gasped and, when she recognized him, she looked like she might cry, trembling and pale.

"Callie? What's the matter?" he asked, concerned at once. "Listen, I'm sorry. Really. Nothing's working out right today and I'm saying everything wrong. Are...are you okay?" She was taking deep, shaky breaths and turned away from him, holding up a hand to indicate that he needed to back off and give her a minute. Totally confused, he stood awkwardly until she was ready to talk. When she turned around, she looked better, but he could still see that she was shaken.

"Joe," she said at last, looking up at him, "I'm going to tell you this once, okay? Please listen." Her voice was unsteady and she looked totally vulnerable. He was immediately serious. "You have to stop sneaking up on me or grabbing me. I… I get really panicked and it's very scary for me. I don't like being touched if I don't know it's coming. Please respect that. I'm really not kidding."

Joe was shocked. For once, she wasn't being sarcastic or joking, and she was being totally direct with him, which he found refreshing. But her eyes… they reflected a deep hurt. No. Not hurt. She was completely, genuinely _scared._ Then, as though a curtain lifted, he remembered talking to Frank once in December and asking him who Callie's new boyfriend was. It turned out that the good looking guy whom she'd brought to Chet's Christmas party was her good friend, John, whom she'd met when some guy grabbed her behind a gym at UCLA. That was about all Frank said, but now that random fact seemed to make sense in terms of why Callie was scared. That HAD to be it.

He looked at her, and saw how hard she was trying to be tough, to blink back the tears that had started to come, and he felt… protective of her. He didn't want to see her hurt.

"Can I give you a hug?" he asked at last, and he held out his arms.

She nodded and stepped into his embrace, and he felt her still trembling. What the hell had that guy done to her? John _had_ gotten to her right away, hadn't he? He made a mental note to ask Frank about it. "Hey, it's okay," he told her, gently. "I understand and I'm really sorry."

She stepped away from him. "I'm fine," she told him, blushing a bit. "Thank you." She met his eyes again. "You said that you're having a bad day. Why?"

He sighed. "I don't even know."

"Wanna talk about it?" she asked. "Let's take a walk. I was going into the Jennie Wade house to take a tour before. It's in ten minutes. I wasn't being 'stupid'. Chet knows exactly where I am and it's literally a three minute walk across the parking lot to the Tour Center. Come with me- I'll pay. Then maybe we can talk?"

Joe nodded slowly. What the hell? Callie knew Iola and had been great friends with her; she was best friends with Vanessa now. Most important, she had been pretty open and honest with him and, he had to admit, she knew when to keep her mouth shut. She'd proven herself trustworthy to a lot of people. Maybe she could help him sort through some of these crazy anxieties. He'd downplay them, but he had a feeling… well, he would test her. If she didn't tell Frank if he asked her not to… then just maybe they really could start to be friends.

He could always talk to Frank; he knew that. Even Biff. Chet- not about this. Vanessa- not about this- not yet. But Callie's perspective as a woman and as a person who had been and was close to the women he loved might be invaluable. The first time she said anything to make fun of him, though, he'd be done with her- forever. He hated that he was so black and white about things, but he and Callie had a long, complex past, and though he found himself actually liking her now, trust took a long time to earn.

"What are you thinking?" Callie asked as they made their way back to the House.

"Honestly? I'm thinking that maybe it would be good to talk. But I'm not sure I trust you." He might as well be forthcoming.

To his absolute shock, she wasn't upset, shrugging her shoulders and quickly glancing at him. "I don't trust you at all," she replied, simply. "So I get it."

Joe felt unreasonably offended. "Why don't you trust _me?_ " he asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

Finally, she turned to him, stopping for a moment. Her eyes were flashing, "Seriously, Joe? You want honesty? Fine. You're argumentative. You like to test people- and don't think that I don't know that you're doing it to me now. You always think that there's something better out there and you never appreciate what you have while you have it. This is harsh, Joe, but it's the truth. You made up your mind to dislike me, and you have held onto that idea for SIX YEARS. You drove Iola crazy. And honestly, you're messing up any chance you have with Vanessa because you're too damned stubborn to make a change."

Joe felt his anger flair. Who the hell did she think she was, saying those things?! He was about to go off on her when she cut him off as he opened his mouth.

"Stop it. Right now. Don't you _dare_ yell at me. Look, Joe. I was tough as a teenager, okay? I understand that. We butted heads all the time. If we are ever going to have a real, genuine friendship, then you need to know that I'm just like you in one way- I will tell it like it is. I'm loyal and trustworthy, whether you believe that or not. I'm not trying to hurt you! I'm trying to _help_ you! You're so defensive that you're not listening. I will be thrilled to talk to you about Iola and Vanessa- and honestly I'm humbled and grateful that you were open enough to ask me. But come on, Joe! You have to bend a little. And if you still don't trust me or like me," she lifted her sunglasses to look at him, "then that's sad. Because you know who loses? Frank. Because he loves us both and we love him. Think about it." Saying no more, she proceeded to the destination.

Joe felt his heart beating hard. He was angry, flustered, upset… but oddly fascinated. Who _was_ this girl? Certainly not the same person he'd known for so long. He had seen her lately be funny and chill, but this brutally honest, no holds barred side was strangely almost what he craved. Very few people talked to him with no pretense, and he'd always liked knowing where he stood with people. With a start, he realized that he was exactly like her. The thought almost made him lightheaded for a moment.

Inside, he stood in silence next to Callie as the tour began. The guide started speaking. " _At twenty years old, Jennie Wade was the only direct civilian casualty of the battle, when she was killed by a stray bullet on July 3, 1863. That's right. Today marks the anniversary of her death. She was an innocent victim, making dough for bread, when a random shot traveled through the kitchen door and the parlor door of her sister's house- here- and hit her. She died instantly. It is uncertain which side fired the fatal shot, but Jennie never saw it coming."*_

Joe felt the pounding start in his head. This… it was too much. Callie was listening attentively with the rest of the onlookers as they toured the house, but he couldn't concentrate; felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. Iola. It's all he could think about all of a sudden. _Innocent victim. Never saw it coming._ Every description fit Iola perfectly. _Amazing person. Down to earth. Taken too soon. Left her great love behind._

He had to get out of there.

Excusing himself quietly, ignoring the shocked look on Callie's face, he made it back outside, clutching the keys tightly and fighting tears. It was this place: Gettysburg. All the sorrow, the endless violence, the ghosts that were supposedly everywhere. God, he felt her presence so strongly. He had been feeling it more and more with every moment that he fell deeper in love with Vanessa. Why? What was he so scared of?

It was starting to make sense and yet starting to confuse him even more. Callie- he needed to talk to her.

Before he could think, though, he saw a horse and buggy flying through the center of town, causing pedestrians to flee and scream. Cars honked from the streets that weren't blocked off. He could not even process what was happening as he heard shots being fired, and he saw a man in a Civil War uniform jump out of the carriage, which had now suddenly stopped, raise his rifle…

...and fire directly at him.

*Jennie Wade was the only civilian killed at Gettysburg. The Tour Center and her home are in close proximity across a parking lot, as described.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note** : _Thanks again for those of you reviewing the story. It makes me happy to see that you're enjoying it and you keep me motivated. For all of your kind feedback since the last chapter, thank you many times to TinDog, Tinee Dancer, Paulina Ann, drumboy100, BMSH, sm2003495, Hero 76, hlahabibty, max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, Erin Jordan, and BeeBee18. :)_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 12

"What the HELL?" Joe shouted as he rolled out of the way, narrowly escaping the bullets that had ricocheted on the sidewalk next to him. Among the noises and screams from the crowded streets, one thing was certain: this guy was after him.

Not having time to think, Joe ran as quickly as he could, dodging into the side-streets. Uttering a prayer of thanks that he had always been agile, he dodged behind a statue of an outhouse*, of all things, right in the center of the town. Pausing for a moment to breathe, he realized suddenly that the "pops" he had heard coming at him were replaced by sirens in the distance. There was no more gunfire.

Cautiously, he made his way forward, past the throngs of people who were gathered in the square or in the shops and who were blissfully unaware of the fact that a madman was after him.

"Great," he muttered under his breath as he started to walk back to the tour center. "Why is someone trying to kill me?" He dodged into the back of one of the period clothing stores and made a call to Chief Cruz, informing him what had happened, although it turned out that he was aware of it, having received numerous phone calls. With a promise that he would call him in a few hours, Joe hung up and began his journey back.

All of a sudden, Joe gasped as he felt someone grab his arm, and whirled around on his assailant, nearly knocking him over.

Chet Morton stumbled back, but caught his balance before falling. "Yo! It's just me!" Chet exclaimed, catching his breath. "Chill! Are you okay, Joe? I heard shots and then saw you running like a bat out of hell. Don't tell me someone was shooting at YOU?!"

Joe let out a breath he didn't realize that he had been holding. He managed a weak smile. "Yeah, well- always an adventure, right?" he asked. "How'd you get here?"

"I was going to meet Callie at the Jennie Wade House and I was just walking across the parking lot. I heard the shots and then I saw you. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Chet finally smiled. "I dropped my damned ice cream cone, too, for you. That's a good $3.50 I'll never get back. Never said I don't sacrifice for you."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Chet. I don't think I've seen you run so fast since …. well, I've _never_ seen you run so fast." He chuckled.

"Ha ha, Hardy," Chet retorted. "Now that I've saved you, we can go back and find Callie. I'm sure she's freaking out right now." He started walking.

"You SAVED me?" Joe asked, incredulous. "You've got to be kidding me! You're hanging out with Biff too much," he added, knowing that Chet's response was pretty close to the the sarcastic one Biff would have given.

"That's not my choice," Chet muttered under his breath, looking away and pulling the sunglasses over his eyes.

"What?" Joe asked, surprised and suddenly uncomfortable.

"Never mind," Chet replied with a shrug. "Where's Vanessa?"

"She's… uh…." he had to pause for a moment to remember, "back at the hotel."

"Oh," Chet replied awkwardly. "Okay. She's a nice girl," he went on absently, clearing his throat. "It's been - what-like two years for you guys?"

Joe felt the color rise to his cheeks. Clearly, Chet wanted to talk… but he didn't know if he had it in him right now to do so. "Almost two and a half…" he began, and then stopped. His eyes went wide and he groaned. "Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath and raised a hand to his temple.

"Uh- should I ask?" Chet questioned. "That wasn't the reaction I thought I'd get."

"I forgot our anniversary. God, I'm such an idiot. Vanessa must be pissed right now." He groaned.

"You celebrate half- year anniversaries?" Chet asked, surprised. "I'd forget, too. I'd forget my own birthday if it didn't involve ice cream cake."

Joe laughed in spite of himself. "Yeah. I started it, actually." He veered off towards the cemetery without thinking, away from the noise, and Chet followed. "When Vanessa came around, and I started falling for her, I was so… happy?" He shrugged. "I wanted to show her how much she meant to me. So now I'm the asshole who started the tradition and then forgot about it. Ugh."

"I'm sure she appreciated that initial thought, anyway," Chet replied at last. "But it's still a pain in the ass to remember half- anythings. I don't know. Maybe I'd feel different if I had a girl."

By now, the boys were strolling into the hallowed grounds, and Joe paused. It felt good to talk to Chet again. He'd spent far too long avoiding him.

"Then again, I'm a whole lot to handle for a girl," Chet chuckled, rubbing his rounded torso.

"A _whole_ lot," Joe emphasized with a laugh. "But you look good, pal. I guess you've cut it down to two fast food meals a day, huh?" he teased.

Chet looked pleased. "One, actually. Frank and Callie got me on the healthy eating bandwagon. I've lost thirty pounds. Not too bad, huh?"

Joe looked at him and smiled. "Not bad at all." He held his tongue. He would have told Biff that it was a good thing he was still ugly, but he knew that Chet was more sensitive than Biff, and they were still on tenuous ground. "But promise me you won't turn into either of them. I don't understand how Callie can be such a good cook and still eat that health food crap."

"It's not so bad," Chet replied. Then he looked at Joe and they both burst out laughing.

"Who am I kidding? It sucks. Hence, the ice cream that you just cost me. But it's worth it to slim down a little. With the Hardys off the market, maybe me and Hooper can finally get some chicks."

Joe raised a brow. "Frank's been with Callie forever, and …." His voice trailed off. "Yeah, I'm off the market, too."

Chet gave a tight grin. "Treat her right," he said, serious again all of a sudden. "Don't blow it, Joe. Vanessa is a really good catch. Try not to be an asshole to her."

Joe's mouth dropped and he swallowed. He felt defensive, caught off guard, but, above all, ashamed and guilty. "I've grown up," he said at last, voice tight. "I know what I have."

"Good," Chet replied, head down, as they continued to walk with no real destination.

"Chet," Joe cut in, after a few minutes of silence. He hesitantly reached out his hand and touched Chet's arm. When Chet met his eyes, he felt his own burn.

"I think of her every day. I wish it could have been me; I swear to god, I do." He had to turn away from Chet and release his arm as he struggled for composure and forced himself to talk. "I'm sorry I never talked to you about it. I'm sorry I didn't treat her like I should have. I can't ever go back to that day, but I would if I could. I know you don't believe this, but I loved her, Chet. I _loved_ her…" He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

He heard Chet release a heavy sigh and finally step in front of him, so he couldn't avoid eye contact. "I know you did," he managed.

Joe looked into his friend's eyes, bright with tears as well. "You do?"

Chet nodded. "Yeah," he began. "Sure I do. I mean, it was always weird seeing one of my best friends with my sister, but she loved you, too. I wanted to kick your ass so many times, though."

Joe could only nod.

"But I didn't need to," he went on. "I didn't have to destroy your life- you destroyed your own."

"I know," Joe mouthed.

"I don't blame you, Joe. I mean, to be honest, a part of me always thought that if she didn't meet you, she would be alive today. And I know that you think that, too. But I got past that, because… I guess Fate meant for us to be friends. And what happened to my sister could have happened to you, Frank, Callie, me, Biff, Tony, Phil, Liz- ANYONE. Blaming you is blaming the victim of a crime, and I realize that now. No one asks to be robbed or raped or killed or kidnapped or anything like that. It's always the bad guys. And you're one of the good guys- you really are- trying to make the world a little better. And that's why I try to help when I can. So does everyone. Because you and Frank - you're brave and resourceful- you know, you're good people, and you always sacrifice for others and you're so hard on yourself. So please stop blaming yourself. I did a long time ago."

Joe couldn't stop the tears overwhelming him. "I'm trying," he managed. "Thank you, Chet. I-"

Chet reached out to him and Joe hugged his old friend tightly. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt as if he could breathe clearly.

When he pulled away, he saw that Chet had been crying, too. "I miss my friend," he said, simply.

"I miss you, too," Joe responded. Then, to break the tension, he smiled. "Can you imagine if Biff had seen us?"

Chet smiled in return. "He's really a jerk," Chet replied, joking, and wiped his own tears away.

Joe sighed. He still had a long way to go with Chet, but this was definitely a start. "I guess we need to go back to the Tour Center," he finally said, and started to quicken his pace as Chet walked beside him. "I have to get out of my head. I've blown off Vanessa, just left Callie at the Jennie Wade House, not even thinking to text her, and I haven't even texted Frank or Biff. I've made a mess of things. I feel her here, Chet. She's all over. I... is that weird?"

Chet's serious answer surprised him. "No. I feel her, too."*

All at once, as they turned the corner, Joe, who was in the lead, barely saw it as a rifle was slammed into his stomach. He cried out in pain as he fell to the ground, the wind completely knocked out of him. When his assailant saw that he was with someone else, he took off running down the alley, leaving his rifle behind.

Without thinking, Joe managed to stand up and started to chase the guy, leaving Chet behind to grab the rifle. Unfortunately, the guy had a large head start, and Joe was still fighting the pain and having difficulty breathing. The only thing he knew for sure was that the person was wearing a Civil War uniform.

Legs pumping, Joe finally turned the corner and realized that he was in an extremely crowded tourist area. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the man running up the stairs into a building at the far end of the street. Cursing under his breath, he made his way through the crowded streets until he finally arrived at the building. He almost jumped when he saw the man sitting right outside, but, before he could go after him, someone grabbed his arm.

"You can't go in there, young man!" a voice cautioned.

Joe shook his arm free and whirled on the man, and then his face drained of color. The guy was in a Confederate uniform. Slowly, he looked at the man on the lawn. There were at least twenty of them- and they all wore matching uniforms. His eyes turned to the window inside. There was a meeting going on- and dozens more men in the same uniform. He would not be looking for a needle in a haystack- he would be looking for a needle in a stack of needles.

Deciding not to even bother, he walked away from the 'soldier' and texted Chief Cruz, copying his brother. He'd need a list of all of the members present in the group and someone to run prints on the rifle which hopefully Chet still had. Maybe Chief Cruz had a list of all buggys registered in Gettysburg as well.

He breathed heavily, each breath painful, and touched his ribs, which were on fire. Lifting his shirt, he saw a huge bruise covering his midsection, and his right side already swollen. He didn't think his ribs were broken, although a hairline fracture was certainly possible.

Slowly, grimacing, he made his way back to the Jennie Wade house. He saw officers on the streets, speaking to pedestrians. He saw Chet in the distance, holding a rifle and speaking to one of them. He caught sight of Callie, who, when she saw him, had the strangest mixture of anger and complete relief on her face.

And there was the damned campout to deal with tonight. And Frank's attack with the ghost tour. And two murders and another attack. Plus, his body ached; his mind was spinning with Chet's words; and he knew that, somehow, he'd have to make it up to Vanessa and get his heart straightened out.

"They say the actual battle was a mess," he muttered to himself, thinking of the many skirmishes he'd already engaged in, and, he was sure, the long war to come.

 _*The battle of Gettysburg was the largest battle ever fought in North America (165,000 soldiers). By the conclusion of the three day battle, there were over 51,000 casualties (dead, wounded, missing). It is considered one of the most Haunted towns in America, and the Devil's Den is considered one of the most haunted places in the town. There are ghost tours galore!_

 _*And there is a statue of an outhouse in the center of town. :)_


	13. Chapter 13

**Note:** _As always, I am incredibly grateful for all of the kind feedback! You are all so appreciated. For the reviews since the last chapter, many thanks to Tinee Dancer, BeeBee18, TinDog, drumboy100, Hero 76, Guest, BMSH, EvergreenDreamweaver, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, max 2013, and Orions Belte._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 13

"You're SURE you're okay? Joe, I don't like this at all."

"Yes. I'm FINE," Joe told him, for the what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes.

Joe sighed as he looked into his brother's worried face and decided to go easy on him. Frank had come to talk to him and check on him immediately, and he was clearly upset.

Joe had gotten back to the hotel an hour ago only to find a note from Vanessa that she would be visiting Callie for a little bit before going with him this evening to Devil's Den. Clearly, she was still mad at him, and honestly, he couldn't blame her. Unfortunately, he still had no idea what to do about it. To make it worse, he knew that Callie was still both worried about him, which didn't help his cause with Frank, and angry at him, which didn't help his cause with Vanessa. And he was conflicted at best about her now. Part of him was starting to understand Callie, really to like her and to admire her sense of humor and honesty. Another part of him still felt defensive and affronted by it. He wanted to talk to her- needed to, even- but their relationship was tenuous and could change on a dime with either of them. In any case, Callie's presence with Vanessa right now would certainly lead to nothing good.

"Well, Chief Cruz called me while I was waiting for you to get back here. He said your phone went to voicemail. He's working on getting a list of the buggy registrants and identifying the rifle. He told me to tell you not to get your hopes up about prints. If the guy was wearing a uniform- a proper one- he'd wear gloves, even in this heat." Frank's voice was serious.

"Yeah, well, I guess we'll see a whole lot of uniforms tomorrow night," Joe reminded him. "Thank God it's the Union Ball." He gave a small smile.

"This isn't funny," Frank chastised him. "Someone is trying to kill you."

"Us," Joe corrected.

"No. Actually, I think _you_ ," Frank replied, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "I've thought about it. What happened to me at the Smytheville Inn was an accident. No," he recanted, "it was sabotage, probably, but what I mean is, I don't think that I was an intended target. When we were leaving the police station, YOU were closest to the bullets. Today, YOU were attacked. I'm pretty sure this has to do with you witnessing that attack in some way, and we have to revisit that angle immediately tomorrow. I don't like the fact that you'll be out in the open tonight. And Joe?"

"Yeah?" he asked warily.

"If YOU are in danger, and it's related to the attack, then Vanessa may be, too. Please reconsider going tonight."

Joe let out a breath slowly. He hadn't really considered that. "That's a good point," he admitted. "But I don't know. She worked so hard to plan this."

"I know," Frank replied sympathetically. "This vacation has pretty much sucked for everyone, especially Vanessa. But the only thing I care about right now is your safety- and hers. And even Biff's, since he'll be with you. Chief Cruz offered to have an officer stay with you. He insisted, actually. But that's a lot to ask of him when he's dealing with so many issues now and his resources are so limited. Plus, how romantic could it be? You, Vanessa… Biff… a police officer…" He gave Joe's shoulder a quick squeeze.

Joe groaned and sat down in a nearby chair, resting his head in his hands and trying not to grimace as his ribs reminded him again of the prior few hours.

"You okay, little brother?" Frank asked, and Joe finally looked up.

"Can I talk to you?" he found himself asking Frank. "Not as my protector or older brother, but as my best friend? And not about your case or this damned case, but about the freaking mess that is my life right now. That means no lecturing. I just want to talk to you. I'm dealing with more than anyone knows and sometimes I think I can't deal with everything." He knew his eyes must have held a pleading look in them.

"Of course you can," Frank said quietly and nodded. "Anytime. Go ahead." He sat in the other chair opposite the table.

Joe took a deep breath, and had trouble starting. But, when he did start, he found that he couldn't stop. He told Frank everything: how he couldn't reconcile his feelings about Iola, how he felt her constant presence here, how his love for her was complicating his feelings for Vanessa. He explained Chet's kindness and generous words, how that burden had started to lift, but he still felt lost and confused and didn't know if he could ever go back to how it used to be with him. He told Frank how much he loved Vanessa, but how he kept getting in his own way, and he didn't know why. The more serious he got, the more scared he became. He related how he had missed their anniversary and god knew what else. Finally, he told Frank exactly why he was confused about Callie; how he couldn't read her but was drawn to her. He tried to convey the inexplicable connection he felt with her, though he knew it was a line that could tip from friendship to enemies, and, what scared him more... maybe even a weird kind of love to hatred.

By the time he had finished, a good half hour had passed. He finally met his brother's eyes, praying Frank would keep his word and not lecture or judge too much. He wasn't disappointed. Frank reached across the table and covered Joe's hand with his own, and he smiled compassionately.

"Thank you for telling me," Frank began, quietly and sincerely. "I knew some of it, but it's hard- as your brother- to know when to butt in and when to mind my own business. I'm sorry for what you're going through, Joe. I am. And you can talk to me any time about it."

Joe managed a weak smile and squeezed Frank's hand. "Thanks. I know, but hearing you say it makes me feel not so alone."

"You will never be alone," Frank answered, simply. "You have to take one thing at a time. Start with Chet- he's actually the easiest. He's missed you, Joe. Take what he said at face value. It might never be the same again, but that doesn't mean it can't even be better. You both have Iola to bond you forever; that can be a source of strength, not always of sorrow."

"You think so?" Joe asked, hanging onto Frank's words.

"I do. Absolutely."

"What about Iola? I feel her everywhere."

"That's not so strange," Frank replied, softly. "We are in a land of death now, and even though it's peaceful, it saw a lot of horror. Plus, it's supposedly haunted. God knows you've dealt with all of those issues with her. You are a nervous wreck here. I see it. You're always touching the keys, Joe, when you think of her. You can't commit to Vanessa- you are 100% right- until you let go of Iola."

"How?" Joe whispered, fighting tears.

"Because you deserve that," Frank answered. "Vanessa is good for you, Joe. She's smart and she doesn't take your crap. She's funny and honest. I don't even know her that well- Callie does- but she loves her. The best thing about Vanessa, other than her infinite patience with you, is that she didn't know you with Iola. She didn't know how you were after, either." His dark eyes bored into Joe's. "Joe, you were a mess. You scared me and a lot of people to death. Believe me, I know enough. I don't even want to know if the rumors were true about smoking and alcohol and drugs and the countless girls you supposedly slept with and left."

Joe's mouth fell open and his face turned red, ashamed. "You know about that stuff?" he whispered.

"I'm your brother. It's my job to know." Frank's voice was calm, accepting.

Joe sucked in his breath and closed his eyes as the memories attacked him. He saw the explosion, remembered the memorial service like it was yesterday. He'd been a nervous wreck and he had started smoking to calm himself... and then the drinking... and then the drugs. Somewhere in the mix were girls, any number of them, who he had gone out with, slept with recklessly, though he had truly never meant to hurt anyone. Those early days were a terrible, painful ache still. He even held onto the cigarettes to this day as a reminder of how far he had come, which is why he'd had them with Vanessa at the hospital when they had visited Nellie and Archie. He figured that maybe this time they'd do some good. And his sweet Vanessa knew better than to ask him, as though she had known he would lie, and hence had pretended they didn't exist for the sake of them both.

He remembered suddenly that Frank had tried to lecture him and physically restrain him on a number of occasions back then, so he must have known at least some of it. Callie had been a major pain as well, trying to get him to stop killing himself. Chet, Tony, Phil... they'd all tried to reason with him before pulling away, and his parents had reached their limits of tolerance, too, justifiably so. Those days he had felt so alone and misunderstood. Only Biff had never gotten on his case, figuring the best way to stop his self-destructive behavior was to join him in it. Biff and he had gotten into some bad trouble and had done a lot of irresponsible things, some of which Frank would never know because he loved Frank too much to admit what a screw up he had been. And he couldn't take letting Frank down anymore. If there was any good to come of that hellish time, it was that he knew that Biff would be his best friend and second brother forever. They'd both saved each other's lives back then, though they'd almost died many times as well. One brother had gone through hell with him; the other he'd put through it. He didn't know which was worse.

Still... he couldn't meet Frank's eyes.

"Stop," Frank cautioned him, and squeezed his hand. "As with anything, you CAN talk to me. But I don't care because- THANK GOD-that's not you anymore. Your bad decisions don't make you a bad person. You were in terrible pain and grief-stricken and felt guilty as hell, and you'll find no judgment from me about that. I'm just saying- be grateful that Vanessa doesn't care, either. She loves you because she knows your heart and who you are- really- as a person. You are the kindest and most giving person I have ever known, even though you're really an idiot a lot of the time," he added, to break the tension. It worked, as he saw Joe smile a bit. "Relationships are hard work, Joe, even the best of them."

Joe opened his eyes at last and started to feel a bit better. "They are. But I love her," he managed. "God, Frank. I really do. I'm just scared I'm going to f*ck this up."

"You are," Frank responded, simply. Joe stared at him.

"Joe, you are tenacious. You have never in your life failed at anything you wanted to get. You always work your ass off and you succeed when you really want something. But when you're at bat, and you start to think you'll strike out, you know damned well you will. And when you think you'll fail a test, you do. If you have no confidence, good things won't happen. If you want Vanessa, you have to make it happen and stop worrying that it won't."

Joe pulled his hand away from his brother and looked at the ceiling for a minute. "But- what if she gets hurt because of me? What if she … dies?" He choked on the word.

"Stop!" Frank cut him off. "Then you may as well resign yourself to a life of misery right now. End it with her and let her go. You won't get a better girl; I know it. But that's up to you. It's not that I don't understand your concerns, Joe. I get it. I think the same thing about Callie; why wouldn't I? But I could go two ways: be alone for the rest of my life and wonder what could have been, or hope with all my heart that she will agree to marry me in the not so distant future and have enough confidence in myself that I can try to protect her. You have to do the same."

Joe felt his heart pounding against his chest. Frank was right, and a weight began to lift.

"And as far as Callie goes, I don't know what to tell you. The two of you are very much alike- I have always told you both that. I appreciate that you're trying with her, but try harder. She will; I know that. Do with Callie what I told you to do with Vanessa. Know you won't fail, and you won't. Callie is the love of my life, and I need you to get along with her." His face grew red as he realized how open he was being.

Joe sighed. "I know, Frank. I do. I wish my relationship with Van could be as simple as yours with Callie." Joe was shocked when he heard a small laugh escape Frank's mouth, and he turned to him.

"Joe, you have no idea what my relationship with Callie is like. You really don't."

"You never argue…" Joe cut in.

"Of COURSE we argue," Frank countered. "And because I was a selfish jerk, I lost a year and half with her, and I almost lost her for good. So don't make my mistake and be selfish with Vanessa. Do you want to take the risk that she MIGHT take you back one day? I lucked out, and I'm grateful every day for having what I came so close to losing. Anyway…" he went on, slightly flushed still. "Yes, we do argue. But not much. We talk. We are two different people, but we have the same priorities. And we have both grown up so much in the last two years. You have no idea how much - none." Joe watched Frank closely and was shocked when he saw what looked to be tears in his brother's eyes. "You're not the only one dealing with more than anyone knows and feeling as if you can't talk to anyone."

"Are you.."

"I'm fine," Frank cut him off, voice tight. Joe let him sit quietly, stunned.

"Look," Frank said at last, again composed as he faced Joe, "I have faith in you, more than you have in yourself. Everything will be okay. I am always here for you, and I love you."

Joe stood, walked to his brother, and hugged him tightly. "The same is true for me. I'll always listen- no matter what. Thank you so much. You've helped me more than you know."

When they pulled apart a minute later, Frank smiled. "So I take it you're not going to Devil's Den tonight?" he queried as he headed for the door.

"Of course I'm going," Joe replied, casually. "Call the Chief and tell him to send an officer. I'd rather deal with gunshots than to disappoint Vanessa again."

Frank stared at him a moment and sighed heavily. "Damn, Joe. Do you ever do things the easy way?"

"Nah. Where's the fun in that?" Joe asked with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "Love you!"

Frank rolled his eyes as he headed out the door and Joe looked after him, grateful again for the big brother he had high on a pedestal and who, in this world of uncertainty, never let him down.


	14. Chapter 14

**Note:** _This is a super long chapter- almost 5,600 words, and there's a language warning in this one- it won't get worse than this in the story. Emotions are running high and the language is coarse. Be warned! I hoped to highlight how everyone is really having their own issues at this young age. Hope you enjoy! :) And, as always, your input and feedback means so much. For reviews left since the last chapter, thank you to the following people:Red Hardy, Drumboy100, Orions Belte, Barb, hlahabibty, TinDog, BeeBee18, max 2013, Erin Jordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, Paulina Ann, Hero 76, and sm2003495. I always love hearing what people think._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 14

Vanessa sat quietly on the outside of the tent, one in a sea of a hundred. The weather was lovely again; they had lucked out. All of the tents were set up on small pedestals of wood so that the land wouldn't get damaged, and there were strict rules governing behavior to preserve the sanctity of the spot. The scene would be filled with Civil War era music, fires, and stories, with re-enactors and specialists and historians hired to lead the evening's festivities. The night would culminate in a reading of Lincoln's "Gettysburg Address," which was not given until many months after the battle ended, but which was a vitally important historical event nonetheless.

It would have been perfect… except that it wasn't. When Joe had returned to the hotel room, she hadn't been there, still trying to reconcile her feelings about everything. She'd ended up crying to Callie, who had proven to be a great listener and who fully supported her, and, to her absolute shock and gratitude, Callie hadn't demeaned Joe, yet was sympathetic to her cause.

Finally, when Joe had arrived, she could tell that something was different… off… about him. He'd explained, to her horror, what had transpired this afternoon, and she was, in fact, scared. How he always managed to get himself into these scenarios was beyond her! He'd even explained the concerns that the Chief had about them being here for the evening, but, other than the Ball tomorrow, this was the thing she had looked forward to the most. He'd understood and assured her that they would be fine.

But they weren't fine; not really. Joe had made small talk and joked on the way over, but had primarily hung close to Biff and spoken with him. And even now, Joe was laughing with Biff about something in the distance.

She swallowed hard. She loved Joe; of that much she was certain. But she also knew that she couldn't go on this way anymore. Something was going to give, and it was going to happen soon. By the end of this vacation, one way or another, she would know if Joe Hardy would be in her life.

Deciding not to wallow in self-pity anymore, she beckoned the officer over and asked him if he'd like to escort her around the campground. After all, if Joe could manage without her, she could certainly do the same. Sure she could. _Sure I can_ , she repeated to herself, hoping that the mantra would echo more loudly than the dull place that had taken hold of her heart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe sat next to Biff on one of the rocks that comprised the Devil's Den and overlooked the scene.

"You okay?" Biff asked him. "You've been pretty quiet all day."

"Yeah," Joe replied. He couldn't think of what to say next since he was so distracted.

"Want to talk about it?" Biff questioned him, serious for once, and Joe smiled to himself. This is what people didn't understand about Biff: he was loud and obnoxious and hilarious, and pretty much an idiot a lot of the time, a ramped up of version of Joe's own personality. But he was also loyal and trustworthy and caring, though he hid it well.

Biff let out a huge burp after sipping his soda, and Joe chuckled. _He hid it VERY well._

Joe glanced sidelong with at Biff for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know what to say. I f*cked up with Vanessa big time and I don't know how to fix it," he admitted.

"Did you sleep with someone else?" Biff asked, direct as always.

"What? No! I wouldn't do that!" Joe retorted.

Biff laughed. "Well, I wouldn't say that you WOULDN'T do that; maybe you HAVEN'T done it is better. You've been known to go down that road before."

Joe glared at him. "Don't be an assh*le," Joe fumed. "I've changed. You know that."

Biff held up his hands when he saw how upset Joe was getting. "Geez. Calm down. I was joking. Okay, so you didn't have dessert. But did you sample the _appetizers_?" He raised a brow in a ridiculously exaggerated fashion as he emphasized the word.

Joe just stared at him. "How did you not get an "A" in English with your creative use of metaphors?" he queried sarcastically.

"I barely know what the f*ck a metaphor is, and you know damned well I never got an "A" in my life, but thanks?" Biff replied, still grinning.

"Biff, shut up," Joe replied at last. "I thought you wanted to help me. And for your information, NO. I was on a _diet_ ," he emphasized back.

"Ah," Biff replied. "Okay. So it's not that. In any case, that's good. Vanessa would dump your ass immediately for that. So what'd you do?"

Joe leaned back on his arms and let the late afternoon sun warm him. "I forgot our anniversary. But it's not just that." He unconsciously touched his necklace with the keys. "I'm all out of sorts. I keep f*cking up. Frank thinks I need to put Iola…" he stopped for a moment before continuing, "in the past. I just… I don't know how."

"I understand," Biff said at last, and Joe turned to him, shocked. Chet and Frank had told him what to do, and he knew they were right, but Biff- he always acknowledged the present instead of the future. He needed that right now.

"You do?" Joe asked. "Biff, I CANNOT mess this up. Vanessa is the greatest thing to ever happen to me. But… there are so many _buts…_ "

"There are. Yep," Biff replied, nodding. "Iola was your first girlfriend, bro. I assume your first time."

When Joe went to protest, Biff held up his hand. "Trust me, not something I ever want to think about."

Joe relaxed a bit as Biff went on. "Iola was awesome, Joe. I get it. That girl was hilarious and chill and… uh… spirited."

Joe smiled. "She was."

"And I liked her a lot. To me, she was always more of Chet's little sister than your girlfriend, though, so she cracked me up and I never took her seriously. I think that's why we got along."

"That's why WE get along," Joe replied, dryly.

Biff chuckled. "Yeah, neither one of us takes the other too seriously. Life's too short, man. I know you get it. Anyway, Yeah. Iola was special and I know you loved her. But… I mean… Vanessa… she's different."

"Yeah?" Joe asked.

"Yeah. Not better or worse, but different. Better for YOU, for sure."

"Everyone is saying that. But I feel like if I say it, you know…"

"That you're betraying Iola?" Biff asked. "You're not."

Joe knew Biff well, and he trusted his advice always. Maybe not when he was convincing him to do something crazy, which was most of the time, but otherwise- Biff told it like it was. Most important, Biff never judged him for his bad decisions, and he made a lot. Then again, Biff was there for the vast majority of them…

"What if I've gone too far?" he asked Biff. "She's perfect. She's gorgeous and smart and funny. She's sweet and innocent. I'm… I'm not. I'm trouble. I have a really complicated past. I…"

"Have an awesome best friend," Biff cut in, and Joe laughed.

"Well, yeah, obviously. She can't say that," he had to add, thinking of Callie momentarily.

"Look," Biff went on, ignoring the dig at Callie, "You need to cut this shit out. So you made mistakes- so what? So you're not so innocent. Bad decisions make good stories, man. You have a lot of great qualities, and if she doesn't make you see that, she's the wrong girl for you. Did you ever consider that?"

Joe shook his head. While Biff had brought up a valid and genuinely kind point that no one else had, he disagreed. "No way. She does make me feel amazing- not like THAT- I mean, yes, like THAT-" Joe blushed as Biff started laughing. "But in all the ways that count."

"So then you ARE an idiot if you let her go. It's that simple, bro. You want her, get her. You somehow have managed to f*ck up royally though, because you're the jerk who already HAS her and is worried about keeping her. You HAVE her," he repeated. "All she wants is you, for some stupid reason." He gave Joe a quick wink. "When did you start THINKING about things so deeply? Sheesh. I don't like this side to you at all."

Joe sighed and grinned. Biff was right. "What? The side with feelings? With a thought in my brain?"

"Yeah, man. It's uncomfortable. Go punch things and hunt and gather or whatever. Pretty soon you'll be stealing Vanessa's wardrobe and asking me to hold you and buy you chocolate. I have to draw the line somewhere."

Joe wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. "Got it," he managed. "I don't have my period, man."

"You're sure?" Biff queried with a smirk, and Joe snickered.

"And you know how to do it?" Biff continued. "Give me some man advice. Bros before hoes," he teased. "I've been thinking that some of the chicks here are probably hot, so I've been creating some pickup lines and you need to help me decide which are the best. Plus, add a few."

"Oh, shit," Joe replied, still laughing. "Go ahead."

"Okay. Here's my opener. I thought about it all by myself. I go up to some chick and I go, "Hey. What do you think of Civil War pickup lines? I GENERAL - LEE don't like them. Oh, _hell_ yeah!" Biff shouted and fist pumped, and Joe burst out laughing.

"St... stop.." Joe managed between gasping for air. "Wait. How about, "I think I have a SHOT with you?"

"YES! I'm just getting warmed up here. 'If you were President, you'd be Babe-raham Lincoln," Biff went on.

"Want the Gettysburg Un-dress?" Joe added.

And the next fifteen minutes were the best of Joe's day as the jokes got more and more raunchy. By the end, both he and Biff were clutching their stomachs with laughter.

"Come on!" Biff finally said, standing and offering Joe a hand to help him up. "Let's try to have a nice night… _sword_ of…" he joked.

With a genuine smile and feeling better than he had in awhile, Joe followed him back to camp.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was about 45 minutes until dinner, and Frank and Callie had just returned 15 minutes prior from a late afternoon tea gathering. Frank was sending a quick text to Joe to see how he and Vanessa, and Biff now, were making out, when he got distracted.

Across the room, Callie was on FaceTime with Johnny, laughing at something he was saying. He heard Johnny's voice. "And THAT is why we should be grateful that we know where the cameras are hidden." He was laughing, too. "Alright, sweetheart. I have to go. I miss you and I love you. I'll see you soon!"

"Can't wait!" Callie answered back, levity in her voice. "I love you, too. Bye, honey."

Frank closed his eyes momentarily and turned away from her, facing the wall. _This is the wrong time to feel this way. Stop. Be calm. Handle this the right way._

 _Sweetheart. Honey. I miss you. I love you._ The past two years, John Gellers had become an integral part of Callie's life, and he had met John a total of three times for about a half hour each. He knew what John had done for her- he _KNEW_ \- and he would never be able to repay him. But still… there were so many questions. It had been impossibly painful for Callie to tell him about what had happened; the worst day of his life. And she'd told him the role that John had played in her healing, completely honest.

But she had never told him much other than that, how this veritable stranger had become her "best friend". This stranger who was now getting professional acting and modeling jobs, this stranger who was "incredibly gorgeous" as he had heard Vanessa coo dozens of times. This stranger who had women flinging themselves at him. This stranger who Callie swore was gay…

He didn't trust that John's intentions were completely pure towards Callie and he hated himself for even thinking that after everything that John had done. But this was getting ridiculous. She had been living with him part time and would be living with him full time in California next year though Callie had pointed out that he "wouldn't be there most of the time" with all of his acting gigs. To be fair, he had never asked Callie about their time apart, and realistically, he had no right to do so. Still, he had always wondered, right or not, what the exact nature of their relationship had been; what it still was, he sometimes feared. _No. Don't go there. You trust her. You love her so much._

The fact remained, though, that the woman he loved… loved someone else. And he hated that.

"Frank? Are you okay?" He felt her hand on his back, and taking a deep breath, he turned to face her.

"I'm fine," he answered, voice clipped.

"No, you're not," she said to him, her big brown eyes full of concern as she looked up at him. "Come on. What's up? You've been really quiet today."

He tried to keep his expression neutral. "We need to go soon, Cal. It's nothing." He forced a smile.

"It's obviously something if you're acting this way," she insisted.

"What way?!" he replied, trying to keep his voice low.

"Frank-"

"Seriously, Callie. We should meet with Hank, Charlie, and Sarah. Chet will be waiting, too. You know he hates to be late for dinner."

She crossed her arms. "Frank Hardy, since when do you hold back from me? Do you know what I've told Vanessa the past few days?" She raised her brow. "I've been talking to her about Joe. And stressing to her the importance of communication. I told her that's one of the things that makes our relationship so solid. We talk things out. Am I wrong?"

He felt the color rise to his face. "No."

"Then why are you upset with me? What did I do?"

"It's not a good time," he muttered. How could he talk to her when he didn't understand his own feelings? He'd only say the wrong thing.

"Not good enough," she said at last. She extended her hand to him, and he reached for it after a moment. "Let's take a walk," she said quietly.

Resigned, Frank followed her as she led the way. They walked outside their room and the Inn, making their way down to a small stream that ran placidly along the perimeter of the property. It was another beautiful evening, with the humidity having given way to a slight breeze. The farms in the distance with the fences from the War dotted the landscape, making the setting picturesque. Under any other circumstance, he would have loved to come here with Callie and to have enjoyed the serenity.

She sat on a large rock overlooking the stream and motioned for him to follow her. He did so, and they sat in silence for a few minutes. He knew she was giving him time, and he was grateful, but time didn't seem to be helping at the moment.

"Just spit it out," she said at last. He felt her watching him as he stared ahead at the water.

"You're going to be mad," he managed. "And I really don't want that. Or to upset you."

"Are you upset? Be honest." Her voice was quiet, even.

"Yes," he answered. "I am." He continued to look ahead.

"Okay," she replied after a minute. "Then I want to know, and I'll promise to listen.""

Frank felt a small smile come to his face despite everything. Years ago, he and Callie would have had a huge argument about this. She was as hot headed as Joe by nature, but their time apart had made them both mature. They really didn't argue; and when they disagreed, which happened on occasion, they talked it out. Still, he knew some kind of argument would be unavoidable. He only hoped it would be manageable.

 _Here goes._ He took a deep breath. "It's about Johnny."

"Okay," she replied.

He forced himself to turn to her, to meet her eyes, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. He couldn't do this. She waited patiently for him.

"I don't understand your relationship," he said at last, clearing his throat.

She furrowed her brows. "What don't you understand? He's my best friend."

Frank shook his head and stood up. She stood next to him. "No. That's wrong. I'm supposed to be your best friend."

"You are-" she began. "You.. I mean…I mean you know what…"

"I know, baby," he said, heart hurting. "God, I don't ever want you to think about that again. That's why I didn't even want to bring it up. I'm sorry." He felt like a jerk.

"What don't you understand?" she asked again, though her countenance wore a heavier expression than it had moments earlier. "Don't worry about me thinking about IT again. It's not something I can or will EVER forget." Her voice was shaky, and he felt awful. "But I know you wouldn't have brought it up, which is why I know whatever is on your mind is serious. So, talk."

Frank swallowed. "I know what he did for you," he replied, quietly. "I know, honey. I'll be forever in his debt for it. But- I don't even know the guy. And it- honestly, it really bothers me when I hear you telling him that you love him. And he says the same. Do you think I like the fact that you're living with a guy I barely know? And that I don't know anything about your past? He has to be attracted to you…" He felt his face flush.

Callie bit her lip, and he could see that she was trying to keep her cool. "I didn't know you felt that way," she responded at last.

He nodded.

"Frank, I'm sorry," she said quietly. "But I DO love him. He IS my best friend, other than you. He saved my life." He watched her lip tremble, her face go pale, and his heart hurt.

"Maybe you should get to know him. He asks about that all the time, you know. And the truth is that while you think- well, I'm honestly still not sure what you think- he still is trying to get over the fact that he doesn't trust YOU."

Frank felt the anger start to surface. "He has a hell of a nerve telling you that," he managed, struggling with his temper.

"Why?" she replied, now getting red in the face, herself. "He was there for me for a long time when you weren't. That's the truth, Frank."

He felt something snap out of the blue. "You know what? You love him so much, why don't you be with him then? Because I can't do this." He felt tears spring to his eyes which he quickly blinked back. "I f*cked up, okay Callie? I know that, and I've done nothing but try to make it up to you ever since. But it's not fair for me to share you with someone else. You wouldn't put up with it if the situation was reversed."

She looked totally stung, and he was caught between lashing out more and apologizing and begging her forgiveness. He'd gone too far, he knew it, so he might as well finish it out. "You came back to me. You told me not to hurt you again- and I swore to you I wouldn't. And I _haven't._ But - God, Callie- I don't even know what you were doing all that time away from me. I don't know if you - "

"Yes?!" she seethed, face red and tears streaming. She never cried anymore. He had made her. He hated himself, but he couldn't stop.

"Did you date him? Did you sleep with him? Do you want to be with him now? I need to know, Callie. I have a _right_ to know. I don't believe that "gay" bullsh*t, and I need to know."

He watched her face crumple, watched her grab her stomach and turn away from him. He saw her trembling from the back, but he couldn't move. He felt lightheaded.

It was a long time before she faced him again. When she did, she was no longer crying, though she looked sick. When she spoke, her voice was shaking. "You know," she began, breathing uneven, "you say that if the situation was reversed, I wouldn't put up with it. But this particular situation, Frank, could _never_ be reversed- so watch what you say… and think about what you're saying. God, Frank… THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU JUST SAID." Her eyes reflected her deep pain, and he felt his heart skip a beat. "If you just would have asked me, just would have told me that you wanted to know… I would have told you. I would have. Because I love you." She was still trembling. "And because I have shared everything with you that I thought you needed to know. No matter how it killed me, how painful, I told you everything."

He moved to speak, but no words came.

"But you didn't ask me. You _accused me. Y_ ou harbored these doubts for all this time, and never once did I have any suspicion that you weren't being totally authentic with me." As she spoke, he heard her voice grow steadier, stronger, and he felt himself start to unravel.

"You don't NEED to know. You cheated on _me_ , remember? You were sleeping with me and 'just' kissing- so you say- another girl. But I believed you, because I trusted you, and even though it makes no sense that you didn't sleep with her or pursue her when we broke up, it was absolutely none of my business what you did and who you did it with. You could have f*cked the whole cheerleading team for any business it was of mine. Did you? I don't know. I never asked."

Frank was shocked. Callie never cursed, and he'd never seen her so eerily calm.

"I _didn't_ sleep with anyone," he choked out. "I told you-"

"Really? You said a lot of things. But whatever you did or didn't do, I couldn't be mad. WE WERE NOT TOGETHER."

"Johnny's still in your life now," he countered. "So you can't say that whatever happened isn't relevant."

"Yeah. He is. My GAY friend is in my life, and I could not be more grateful. And our friendship goes well beyond what happened to me. He's a good man, Frank. Ugh!" She threw up her hands. "Part of me wants you to wonder now. Wonder who I dated and slept with and everything else that you have no right to know, but what I would have told you, if you weren't being such a sanctimonious a**hole right now."

Frank's mouth dropped open.

"Here, Frank, is the year and a half I wasn't with you." She held up her hand and started placing her fingers up one by one as she started listing things in rapid succession. "August- I found out that you cheated on me after four years together and I was lonely and scared and moved across the country. September- a man grabs me and slams me against a wall when I'm coming home from the gym and I meet a really good man named John Gellers who knocked him out. October- we hang out all the time and become very close FRIENDS. November- guess what? We decided to give it a go. And I dated him- for about a month. _I did._ So what?! But I didn't have sex him, since that's what you obviously need to know. Know why? Because I don't sleep around. And because he was struggling with his sexuality and didn't know if he was bisexual or gay or straight, so he decided that he wouldn't take advantage of me by starting a relationship that he couldn't fully commit to, because he is a decent and kind person. Oh, and the fact that I was still, despite everything, in love with YOU. December- three days in and you know the rest. Does that count against me, too?"

She turned around, shaking, and Frank watched in horror as she started to collapse. He reached over and caught her as she fell. "Callie? Cal?" he asked frantic, as he tried to get her to stand straight.

Weakly, she pushed away from him and spoke in a soft, almost haunted voice. "Why didn't you just say, 'Callie, I feel a little jealous of John? I want to know him better because he helped you so much'? I would have understood that and felt terrible that I inadvertently hurt you. Why didn't you just ask me if I had been sleeping with anyone in the past? Even John? While it's none of your business, I could have understood why you'd want to know, and I would have told you, honestly and openly."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. And he was. Horribly so. He'd let all his insecurities build and explode and his questions came out as accusations- she was right. "God, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "Not good enough." She grabbed her stomach again and let out a low moan. He immediately reached for her, but she moved away. "How could you think for a second that I want to be with John, while I'm here with you? While I tell you my secrets and share my bed with you? I'm in love with YOU. Even now." She walked towards the Inn slowly and he followed next to her.

He could barely meet her eyes.

"You need to know what your words do to me." She stopped and spoke slowly and deliberately, turning his face to her. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "When you ask me things like you did- in the _way_ you did- you imply that I've had relationships you didn't know about, that I love someone more than you. That hurts me. And no matter how right I am and how confident I sound about what I believe, in my heart, I'm scared to death. You say "did you sleep with him?", but I hear "you're a whore." You say "he's not gay," and I hear "you're a liar." You say "he has to be attracted to you," and I hear "you're attracted to him and cheating on me." Two tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Frank, these are MY issues, not yours. I know that. But you need to be sensitive to them- please. I'm working on them. But I hurt, Frank. It's still incredibly raw for me- it makes me think again and again what I did to deserve IT, what I was wearing, how I was walking, what signals I was giving out. And it's sick and twisted and I know logically it wasn't my fault, but I'm a thousand times more insecure than you. If you question my integrity, my word, my feelings for you- then do you see how it ties into every fear I have? Don't you think I want to not be scared all the time, not to equate intimacy with violence?"

Frank fought hard to keep his tears at bay and fought every instinct he had to take her in his arms and comfort her, knowing that she needed to speak, as much as the veracity of her words were hurting him. "It breaks my heart when you say that," he finally answered, his voice dangerously unsteady. "If I could take away your pain, I'd move heaven and earth to do it. Every time you say things like this… it chips away at _my_ soul, too." He wiped at his eyes. "I'm completely, totally helpless here, and I hate that. You were hurt so badly…" his voice was so clipped he could barely speak, "and I couldn't protect you." He tried to regain his composure, but knew he was trembling, himself. He would never, ever forgive himself for not being there for her. And when he saw how badly it affected her still, tore mercilessly at her sense of worth, he wanted to throw up. They had taken the most precious person in his life and almost destroyed her, and he couldn't ever have retribution. _Get it together. Man up. Now._ He willed himself calm.

Although she was shaking, clutching her stomach still, she was humbled by his emotion. "It was never your fault," she answered, trying to find the line to simultaneously convey how much she loved him but also how much she needed him to do right by her, now, not as reparation for a past over which he had no control. "You've helped me so much with that. You've shown me what love is, and yes- _again-_ you're the _only_ man I have ever been in love with or made love to. But-this has to stop. Are you in it 100% with me, no doubts, no questions, no hesitation, or are you not? Are we in it for the long haul together or are we going to cut our losses now? Think about it."

It was her turn to look straight ahead. His heart was breaking and he blinked his own tears away surreptitiously. She spoke so openly, with so much raw emotion and complete candor, he was touched. He had always loved her, and he'd let his fears overcome him and had hurt her deeply in the process. He'd told Joe only days ago that he would ask her to be his wife in the near future. For the first time, he realized, she might just say no. The thought terrified him. He couldn't lose her again. She wasn't mad at him for what he'd asked; she was hurt and shocked by how he'd said it. As strong as she was, she was still very fragile in many ways, and he'd forgotten that, and could not do so again.

In the distance, he could see a small crowd gathering out front. Something was off.

She stopped to take a few deep breaths and again wrapped one arm across her stomach. Finally she stopped and looked at him, face pale. "You and John are going to talk. _Period_. I'm not giving up his friendship, and if you really love me, you'd be on your knees thanking god that I met him. I would be dead if I didn't. Literally. If you knew him, you'd know that he knows that I love YOU. And even though you say it's 'bullsh*t', yes- he IS gay. Be glad of that, too, because if he hadn't been, we very well may have ended up together. He never hurt me-YOU did."

She cringed a bit, and Frank held his breath, emotions roiling. "Say what you want about me- I'm honest. I've always been honest. If I tell you I love you, then I do. You promised me you wouldn't hurt me again- and today- you did. A lot. And I expect an answer soon about if you're in or out. I deserve that."

In the distance, he heard some screams and voices calling out. As he looked up, he was shocked to feel Callie grab his arm, nails digging in. "Cal?" He asked, turning to her at once.

Her face was white and she looked unsteady. "My stomach hurts," she managed, and her legs started to give out. "Help me," she whispered, and he caught her, easily lifting her petite frame. Heart pounding, he carried her quickly to the front of the Inn.

Where at least ten other people were moaning, crying, or completely unconscious on the ground.


	15. Chapter 15

**Note:** _Another long chapter, well over 5,000 words. It's a day early, but I like to live dangerously. :) I had a lot of fun with this one! Many thanks to everyone who has left reviews. You are all very much appreciated! Thank you to Hlahabibty, TinDog, sm2003495, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, Erin Jordan, max 2013, BeeBee18, Drumboy100, and Paulina Ann for your reviews since the last chapter._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 15

Callie stretched as she looked out the window early the next morning. She was feeling much better, having slept soundly the entire night. Now, she stood showered and dressed, ready to start the day…and having absolutely no idea what to do.

The conversation with Frank yesterday had been terrible. She'd had no idea that Frank felt insecure about Johnny, and she had tried to remain calm and understanding. But his words had struck a chord with her, and the way he had said them- it touched every insecurity she had. How could he think that she had a whole hidden life, that she harbored feelings for another man? They'd overcome so much, had found their way back to each other, but she could not and would not be in a relationship in which there wasn't total trust.

She fought with the tears that kept threatening to surface. While she did love John, it was not a romantic love. She couldn't even define it; it was certainly more than a friend and not remotely like a sibling, but he wasn't the one who she dreamed about and longed to be with. She was now and always had been IN love with Frank. He was the one who made her heart beat faster, who ignited in her a passionate spark that caused the heat to rise to her face whenever she thought of it. But intense sexual chemistry aside, he was her dearest friend and partner. He always had her back, and she enjoyed his warmth, sense of humor, intelligence, bravery, and little wild streak immensely. Whether they were cuddling on a couch, playing games, going out alone or with their friends, they always had fun and he made her laugh. He was so smart and sweet, and he truly brought out the best in her.

Theirs was a quiet, steadfast love much of the time, and she knew it was rare to be both so attracted to another person and so comfortable and laid back with him. But again- trust underscored everything, and if he didn't trust her...

A random pain in her stomach reminded her of the events of yesterday, though she couldn't be sure if it was the physical after effects of the poisoning or the emotional trauma of her conversation. Vaguely, she remembered bits and pieces of last night. Collapsing in Frank's arms, a medic trying to talk to her, Frank by her side, lots of ambulances and people on the ground. She remembered some sort of IV and starting to feel better, but then being exhausted and shaky. Then- was it Frank or Chet?- had led her to the room, to the bed, and that was the last thing she remembered. She had woken up this morning, alone, and realized that she had been alone all night; there was no sign of Frank.

As if he could read her thoughts, the door opened and Frank walked in with two cups of coffee. When he saw her, he froze. She noticed the slight dark circles under his eyes, the start of a five o'clock shadow. Finally, he gave her a small, tight smile, before placing the coffee cups on the table across the room.

"How are you feeling? You look better," he asked quietly.

"I feel better," she admitted, awkwardly. "What happened?"

They stood across the room from each other.

"Remember when you told me that the tea you had before dinner was really sweet and you didn't know what to make of it?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"Apparently, a lot of people also felt the same way and started getting pretty sick. The tea was poisoned- they're running tests, according to Chief Cruz- but it's most likely ethylene glycol." He stared at her for a moment, and she saw the emotion in his eyes. "Thank god that you didn't have too much, that it was diluted in that huge iced tea container. It could have killed you." He cleared his throat. "A lot of people- at least ten- were also sick, but everyone got medical attention right away and they're expected to make a full recovery. Still- people are leaving right and left. There's all sorts of talk that a ghost or something is behind it, which is ridiculous, but people's imaginations are running wild. It's July 4th, one of the busiest days of the year for the town, and the Inn is half empty now. I feel bad for Charlie, Hank, and Sarah. I told Charlie that we would all change our reservations to stay here tonight and tomorrow; try to figure out what's going on. I hope that's okay. They have enough rooms for everyone." He looked down.

"That's fine," she said at last. "It seems to be getting serious now," she added quietly. "This is a lot more than a practical joke at this point."

Frank nodded and looked up again, and she could tell he wanted to say something.

"I'll get going," he finally stated. "I guess you need to rest today and get ready for the ball, if you still want to go. Chet and I will talk to the Williams and then meet up with Joe, Biff, and Vanessa later." He didn't move.

"Did you stay with Chet last night?" she asked, numbly.

"No," he answered, again giving her the smallest of smiles. "I was right here in the chair. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh," she whispered.

It was several minutes before either spoke again. Finally, Frank walked slowly to her, and she felt her heart start to beat faster. He stopped right next to her and she looked up at him.

"Before I go, I wanted to tell you a few things, okay?" he asked her, quietly.

"Okay," she answered. It was so strange to feel him so close, but not to touch him.

"I called him," he said, simply.

She looked at him questioningly. "Called who?"

"John," he answered, his gaze never wavering. "I talked to him for awhile. He's flying to New York over Thanksgiving for a meeting in the city, and he said he'd fly you back as well so you can be here. We're going to get together- just the two of us- and talk things out and clear the air. If he's going to be a part of your life, then I have to be okay with him. And he feels the same way about me, and I'm okay with that. We'll work it out, because I DO trust you." His voice was thick with emotion.

Callie felt her lips start to quiver and again fought tears. Her heart was pounding. She couldn't believe it. That phone call must have been so difficult for Frank to make, and he had done it- for her.

"That's not all," he went on, breathing deeply, which she recognized as his attempt to stay in control. "This morning, really early, I called your parents. I talked to your dad, and I listened to what he had to say, which, trust me, wasn't easy. I told him that sometime soon, I'd like to talk to him and your mom in person. I wanted to answer their questions and to assure them that I'm in it for the long term. Completely, totally, no questions asked. You needed to know that, if I recall, so I thought your parents should, too."

Callie felt herself trembling, the tears finally breaking free.

"Forgive me," he whispered, his own eyes watery. "Please."

Callie took the one step forward that separated them and stepped into his open embrace, wrapping her arms around him as he held her close. She could hear his heart beating as she nestled against his chest, felt the tenseness disappear from her own body as she melted into his. Finally, after several minutes of silence in each other's arms, she slowly pulled back.

"Where's that coffee?" she asked in a wobbly voice. "I'm staying away from tea for a long time." She let out a little laugh as she wiped her eyes.

She watched as Frank let out a relieved sigh and the smallest laugh of his own. "Over there," he pointed at the table. "Unlike the tea, it's plain and bitter."

Callie reached for his hand as she made her way to the table. "Actually," she said softly, "I think this is probably the sweetest thing I've seen in awhile."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Several hours later, around 11:00, Callie sat in Vanessa and Joe's new room at the Inn and helped Vanessa unpack. Biff and Chet were getting things together in their room as well. Frank had told her that he and Joe had decided that it was high time that they got moving on the murder investigation, so they had headed back to the scene of the first murder again and would be retracing all of their steps until the Ball. Apparently, Joe had received some sort of lead that they had to check out. After that, the plan was to work with Chief Cruz the following day and to help the Williams family with their issues, which were getting worse and worse.

Callie eyed Vanessa carefully as she started putting away some of their clothing. Seeing how quiet Vanessa was, Callie started to make some small talk, squinting as she noted all of the crumpled clothing and strewn about items.

"I can't," Callie began with a small laugh. "If your room is anything like ours, there's an iron in the closet by the bathroom. I'm sorry; I have to do it. It pains me to look at this." She held up a perfectly good summer dress covered in wrinkles.

Vanessa shrugged. "Suit yourself," she indicated, as Callie dragged the suitcase toward the closet and released the board. "I don't see what the big deal is. I wore that dress already."

Callie raised a brow. "And? You washed it, right?"

"No," Vanessa replied, distractedly. "Joe and I don't really do laundry on vacation too much."

Callie's mouth fell open. "Please tell me then that you've separated the clean and dirty laundry. Ack!" she called out. "Oh my god. I will NOT touch Joe's boxers, especially if this is the dirty pile." She visibly shuddered.

Despite herself, Vanessa laughed. "Sorry. Should have warned you. Yes; that's the dirty pile. I'll wash it later. If you want to iron the other clothes, in the other bag, go ahead. Do your thing, girl."

"I need a few minutes to recover," Callie answered, and Vanessa smiled sadly as she brought her makeup and accessories bag to the vanity.

Then, it dawned on Vanessa. "Are you okay?" Vanessa asked her, going back to sit by Callie on the bed and reaching for her hand. "I heard the word 'recovery' and then I remembered what happened to you last night. Frank called Joe this morning and told him what happened with you and others. Will you be able to make the Ball tonight?"

"I'm okay, thanks," she replied, and noting Vanessa's sigh of relief, she added, "and you know I wouldn't miss this ball for anything. It'll be fun to dress up, and the dresses were really pretty, weren't they? I just hope they fit!" Callie went on idly, keeping Vanessa talking. "And there are so many components; hoop skirt, undergarments, corset, belt. Geez! Oh well. If it's too huge, I guess we can rule out ballgowns for our weddings one day, right?"

Vanessa released Callie's hand and crossed her arms. "Marriage is the last thing on my mind," she replied, more harshly than she had intended to. "It wouldn't matter if it was, anyway."

Callie sucked in her breath. She knew that Vanessa was like this: fiery and emotional, but she also knew that she needed to be heard before any reason could make its way to her. Iola had that tendency as well, but at least Vanessa ultimately would listen. Like her, Vanessa was an only child, and she understood what Frank and Joe didn't; when you had no siblings, you had no one to balance you out and to justify your thinking. It had taken her years to learn that she wasn't the center of the universe. And, she thought with a wry smile as Frank came to her mind, that she had to learn to share.

"Okay, bestie," Callie started. "Spill it. How did last night go?"

"For me or for Joe?" Vanessa answered defiantly.

"Uh... I take it they're not one and the same then?"

"No, Callie, they're not," Vanessa retorted. "Let's see. I met two really nice guys named Caesar and Vincent. Caesar was all over me and never left my side. Vin flirted with me and was pretty hot and slipped me his number, and if I was single I would definitely check him out. I spent the night with him practically."

"Uh…" Callie stammered. "Okay? Where was Joe?"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! You've gotten the question of the day!" Vanessa called out, standing and gesticulating her arms wildly. "It was a _bro_ mantic night for him… and Biff."

Callie gasped, shocked, but tried not to laugh at the same time. "Vanessa! Come on…"

Vanessa glared at her. "Yeah, see, here's the issue. Vin WAS hot, but he was also the police officer on duty who hung out with me all night. And Caesar? He was the police dog."

"Oh no," Callie replied, covering her smile with her hand.

"It's not funny!" Vanessa cried.

Callie stood up and hugged Vanessa when she realized that she had started to cry. "It's okay," she said softly, comforting her as she stroked her hair. "Honey, I know. I wasn't laughing at you. I was laughing at how you described things- you have a way with words." She led Vanessa to the bed again and sat by her.

"Tell me about it," Callie encouraged her.

So she did. Vanessa, wiping back tears, told her everything, starting with what Callie already knew: the keys, Iola's name, the forgotten anniversary. Then she went onto recounting the plates and ice cream, and the events at Devil's Den. She described in detail everything that happened, ending with, "Cal, this might be it. Either way, I'm going to know soon. And I'm scared."

Callie let out a soft breath. Yes, it was bad. But she wanted to make her friend see the other side again. "Van," she said softly, "Let me say this. I support you fully and I hear you and you know I love you. And it hurts to see my effervescent, fun and sweet friend so sad lately. But, as your friend, it's my job to just kind of make you see things another way. Are you willing to listen?"

"Not really," Vanessa sobbed. "Can't you just support me? I don't want to be alone."

"You are NOT alone," Callie emphasized, and decided to switch her tactic after thinking for a few minutes. "I'm going to tell you a little story about a boy. Listen up."

"What?" Vanessa asked, completely confused, as she met Callie's eyes.

"It's a tale of miscommunication and good intentions." Callie gave a small laugh as she remembered. "A long time ago, there was this girl who fell in love with the most handsome boy she had ever seen."

Vanessa stared at Callie, but she had her attention.

"And at first, well, things were amazing. He was not only so handsome, but he was also kind and funny and athletic and smart. She was only fifteen, and she fell HARD for this guy. Oh- she had it all planned out: she was going to marry him, sail into the sunset, and live happily ever after. Of course, every milestone had to be recorded. So, obviously, she had pretty high expectations. She had always wanted to go to the gorgeous restaurant in the city called Windows Over S'Max. You've heard of it?"

Vanessa started to smile. Yes, she had. It was a most exclusive restaurant in Manhattan that overlooked the Hudson, known for its floor to ceiling windows and named for its founder, Sam Maxwell, who had died before it had been completed. Her mom had taken her there once. It was gorgeous.

"So," Callie went on, "This girl was very lucky that her relationship lasted a year, and they had a really nice anniversary at Tucci's, where they had gone on their first date."

"What?" Vanessa asked with a laugh. "You said-"

"I'm getting there," Callie cautioned, trying not to smile at where this was going. She hadn't ever told anyone this story, one of her favorite early memories with Frank. "As I said, for their one year anniversary, they went to Tucci's, which was fun. I mean, we- _they-_ -" she corrected, as both women giggled, " were only sixteen, and so that was fine and sweet and romantic and all that. But still- gosh, she wanted that other restaurant."

"So what did she do?" Vanessa asked, engrossed.

"She dropped hints. Every month. EVERY MONTH. She mentioned it all the time, hoping that they would be together to celebrate their two year anniversary, and that this restaurant would really mark that beginning of forever. But, see, that caused her to ignore all of the other incredibly lovely things that the handsome boy did for her. She didn't always see all of the signs of affection her gave to her, because she was so busy pinning her hopes and dreams on this one day. If he could make that work, he would never let her down."

"Mmm hmm," Vanessa murmured, starting to see where this was going.

"So it's a month before the big day. And she is relentless. And this boy- he was away a lot of the year- I forgot to tell you that- because he and his sidekick always seemed to find trouble. This boy, she could tell, was really trying to make it special. He knew she had been talking about something she wanted a lot, but she forgot that he suffered from the worst kind of illness that made him forget things, confuse things, and see things in the most literal ways."

"Illness?" Vanessa queried.

"Yes. It's called Being a Guy; it's very detrimental when trying to understand nuance."

Vanessa snorted.

"So in that month, she could tell that he was concentrating hard on making it work, and he looked really confused, but kind of happy at the same time; relieved almost. It was a bit of an odd reaction."

Vanessa raised a brow as Callie went on, her eyes big and full of wonder as she drew out the story, pausing for dramatic effect often. "And _ooh-_ he annoyed her that month. He forgot all sorts of things. He missed dates, he forgot her favorite shows, he gave her the wrong answers on a chemistry homework assignment because he had written it down wrong; things like that. But you know why he did that?" she asked.

"No," Vanessa whispered. "Tell me."

"Because he was nervous and distracted. He knew he was supposed to do something even though it didn't make sense to him. He tried to please her, but he also had other things going on in his life, much to her chagrin. He had…" she leaned in close, "friends. Sports. School. A job. Pressure to be a great older brother. In short, he had… _a life_ …" Callie whispered dramatically.

Vanessa giggled again.

"So," Callie went on, returning to her normal voice, "the day comes and she's all dressed up and excited because he told her- he _assured_ her- that he was so excited to make her happy and he had no idea why she had asked so little of him. He comes over- it's about 5:00- and she's dressed in this brand new red dress-his favorite color on her- after having spent the day in the salon. Luckily, their anniversary had ended up being on a Saturday. And she opened the door-" Callie paused for effect- "and there he stood, in jeans and a sweater, holding a package and flowers. She was confused, of course. And so was he. He took one look at her and his face turned as red as her dress, because clearly- something had gone wrong."

"Oh no!" Vanessa exclaimed, covering her mouth in shock. "Aww…"

"They stared at each other a long moment before she closed the door behind her and she followed him outside to his car. It was a beautiful night, and they both leaned against the side door of the car. Fast forward about fifteen agonizing minutes later, and he hands her the present next to the beautiful flowers. She was confused. Was it... was it… a menu in a frame? Was it a framed scroll proclaiming his love for her and their night to come?" She looked at Vanessa.

"I'm guessing not," Vanessa replied, smiling.

"Correct! It was… a _book_." Callie tried hard to suppress a smile. "Know what the book was?"

"I couldn't even guess," Vanessa admitted, dying of curiosity.

"It was," Callie began, as she started laughing, "a book which he had special ordered about why Microsoft was better than Apple."

"Huh?" Vanessa said, confused.

Callie was still laughing. "That handsome boy who cared so much for her had misheard her. He THOUGHT she had developed a sudden interest in his computer hobby and really wanted to know why WINDOWS was OVER the MAC, and they were going to discuss it during a normal dinner… at Tucci's again."

Vanessa started howling with laughter. "Oh my god!" she gasped through peals of laughter. "Poor you! Poor Frank!"

When the women settled down, Callie changed her tone. "That was one of the best days of my life, Van," she admitted, much to Vanessa's surprise. "Because I realized then and there that it didn't matter if Frank couldn't remember everything I had told him or couldn't pick up on my, I'm sure, awkwardly worded hints. It didn't matter if he got dates and times wrong sometimes. And romance sure was not a restaurant in the city. That night, I cannot tell you how I fell in love with that boy. We got takeout, cuddled under the blankets on the couch, and learned what love really meant. And, in his arms that night, I learned more than I ever wanted to know about computers." She laughed softly.

"That was your first time?" Vanessa asked, rapt.

"No," Callie replied softly. Then she smiled mischievously, adding, "Vanessa, I'm a virgin. As pure as the driven snow."

Vanessa started laughing. "Maybe snow that's been driven over a few times..." she managed between giggles before Callie smacked her, laughing too.

Callie's eyes danced as she thought of Frank. "I'll be serious now. I don't want to share details about our private life; I hope you understand. It's just not who we are. I CAN tell you, because I know you won't repeat it, that our first time hadn't even happened yet. It wasn't about that at all. Frank tried so hard to do everything right, and, in the end, it WAS perfect because of it. No, that night was about learning that love is in the small things, Van, and the small things become the big things."

Vanessa met her eyes.

Callie held her hand. "Joe Hardy LOVES you, Vanessa. He should have remembered all of the things he didn't. I agree with you. But focus on what he does remember for you- all the small things. I have no idea why, but he's nervous about something. Add that to the fact that he and Frank have two cases, Frank's been hurt, Joe's had little sleep and been targeted twice by a madman- it makes more sense. Van, based on what you've told me, Joe WAS with you all last night. He may not have spoken to you as much as you would have liked him to, but you said he did go to the reading and the campfire and everything you asked him to do. It's not like Joe not to have invited Biff if he wanted to go, or to leave him alone if he did invite him. Joe's not rude… to most people." She cleared her throat. "Did he stay with you or with Biff in the tent last night?"

"Me," Vanessa admitted.

"And how did that go?"

She shrugged. "We didn't have sex."

"Ugh!" Callie sighed. "You and Joe are WAY too open about those matters."

Vanessa rolled her eyes.

"Besides, geez- you were at hallowed ground in the open in a tent that sat on wood. Imagine the splinters you could have gotten in god knows what places!" Callie teased.

Vanessa started laughing again. "I suppose."

"So what DID he say to you?" she asked.

"He…" Vanessa paused, trying to remember. "He had gone with Biff for a few minutes to look at something. He asked if I wanted to go and I declined. I was… sad. I pretended to go to sleep. It was just easier that way."

"Did you see him at all?" Callie queried.

Vanessa gasped slightly and looked upset.

"What?" Callie asked.

"Yes," she said in a low voice. "He laid down next to me and he wrapped his arms around me and said…" She took a shaky breath.

"What did he say?" Callie asked, gently.

"He said he loved me. And… and that he was sorry." She raised her tear-filled blue-grey eyes to Callie.

Callie nodded kindly. "He knows he messed up, Van. It's not an excuse, but he knows. He probably doesn't know how to make it right, especially since you've had no real time to talk. I'm not saying to forgive him; that is totally up to you. And you're right- you do deserve someone who will remember the little things. You just have to ask yourself- do you have that already? I don't know the answer. You do."

"I don't know what to do," Vanessa admitted, tearfully. "I cannot compete with Iola. And I shouldn't have to. We've been together a long enough time."

Callie stood and stretched. "You're not wrong, Vanessa. Everyone has a line that they know can't be crossed. For me, it's about trust." She closed her eyes momentarily as she thought about the past day. In a minute, she opened them and smiled while continuing. "That line determines what you can and can't live without. Everything else just doesn't matter as much to me, but I'm more like Joe in that regard; I kind of roll with the punches and laugh things off. You're oddly a little more like Frank with all this planning and precision."

"So?" Vanessa asked defensively.

"It's not a criticism; I love that about Frank and Joe loves it about you. Joe was wrong. And if it's a PATTERN, and it just might be, then you have every right to be hurt. I see it, Van- I do. He has always held back his whole self with you- and it HAS gotten worse in the last six months or so."

"Why?!" she tearfully stammered.

"I'm guessing that because the last time he gave his heart away, it got broken."

Vanessa sucked in her breath.

"I don't know that for sure. Maybe he's just a jerk- he's certainly not very nice to me. But I don't think so; not with you. TALK to him. If he doesn't change, then move on. If you love him, though, and I know you do, be honest. Try to work it out… if it doesn't cross your line. Maybe he's dealing with pain or an issue that's tearing him apart and he needs you more than ever though he's pushing you away because he's scared." Her mouth went a little dry. _Just like I did._

She held her head up thinking of all Frank had done for her, how he'd given her hope and happiness and safety and more love than she'd ever thought possible- once she'd let him in again; once she'd trusted him- _her_ line. "Find out why he's acting as he is and be direct with your expectations, so you don't end up with a "Windows Over S'Max" easily avoidable confusion. That's my advice. And one more thing."

Vanessa looked up as Callie headed to the door. "That young boy I fell in love with so many years ago? He's never forgotten anything since, and if he doesn't understand, he asks. We are two imperfect people and we have to be gentle with each other's hearts. We've dated six years, and even if you take off the year and half that we separated, that's still over twice as long as you and Joe have been together. My dream boy grew up to be my dream man and the person I love the most in the world. People mature and learn over time. But you can't improve if you don't fail first. Remember that."

With a final wink, she left the room, her words an echo of solace in the air.


	16. Chapter 16

**Note:** _Again, every comment left on a chapter is very much appreciated and always makes me smile. Thank you to Drumboy 100, Tin Dog, BeeBee18, sm2003495, ErinJordan, BMSH, EvergreenDreamweaver, Paulina Ann, max 2013, and Hero 76 for taking the time to comment!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 16

"So how'd your night go? Callie is okay?" Joe asked Frank on the way over to see Peter Stobak, the owner of the store at which the first murder had been committed. Last night, much to Joe's shock, he had received a text from Stobak asking to see him to discuss some elements of Maggie Taylor's murder.

Frank sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. She's okay, thank God. It was a hell of a long night, though."

"Why? What happened?" Joe asked, noting Frank's fatigue.

The brothers needed to re- examine the testimonies of all of the witnesses to the murders, starting with Stobak. Before driving to the jail later, they had decided to walk to the shop at which Stobak worked, both of them subconsciously needing the support of the other.

"I filled you in," Frank reminded him, stifling a yawn. "Maybe before the Ball tonight, or possibly tomorrow, you could help me out with the Williams case? Like you said, that seems pretty straightforward if it's about selling the Inn, but a woman did die there, there have been several people attacked, and last night was really bad. If the medics weren't so fast and the solution wasn't so diluted, people could have died." He looked down.

Joe reached over and patted Frank's back quickly. "I know. And of course I'll help. So why are you so so tired? Did you stay up all night with Callie?"

"Kind of," Frank replied. "She was sleeping, but I was there all night. Of course. I was worried about her."

Joe smiled softly. He was enjoying this more open side to Frank. They'd always been very close, the best of friends, but, after he had broken up with Callie, they'd spent a lot of time together. Granted, Frank had been absolutely miserable, but they'd talked more than they had in years. He was happy to see that, though Frank and Callie had had reunited, Frank remained more willing to talk about most things, though he was still fiercely protective of Callie and rarely spoke of their personal relationship.

"She's feeling okay, though?" Joe asked, genuinely concerned.

Frank gave a small smile. "I think so. She's in some discomfort; has stomach pain. But she's much stronger than she was yesterday. I'll be honest- that was scary."

Joe nodded. "I bet."

"What about you? How was the camping?" Frank asked, changing the subject.

Joe groaned. "Don't ask."

"That bad?" Frank asked anyway. "Did you talk to Vanessa?"

Joe released a breath. "I did not, because I'm embracing my immaturity and I am still hoping that avoiding a talk will make it go away." He reached for the keys around his neck, a sign Frank didn't miss.

"Probably not the most effective tactic," Frank replied, suppressing a smile. "You _do_ have to talk to her."

"What the hell am I going to say, Frank? 'Oops. Sorry I missed our anniversary? That I know you're mad at me because I'm a stupid jerk who keeps hurting you?'" he asked, emotional.

"It's a start," Frank said, simply.

Joe glanced at him sidelong as they walked. "Maybe," he mumbled. "What do I say about… Iola? I…" he stammered. "I can't expect her to understand. Hell, even I don't understand."

"Joe," Frank replied, stopping and gripping his arm, "TELL HER that. But you're right. She might not understand, because, honestly, Iola is YOUR issue, not hers. As it should be. I just don't want to see you throw away your future because you can't let go of the past."

Joe sighed and shook off Frank's arm as he sat down on a green bench outside the center of the town square* and stared into the shop in front of him. "Frank, you don't get it. I know that you're trying, and your advice is good. I _know_ that. But you didn't lose Callie. You have no idea what it's like to feel so guilty about not being able to stop something from happening, or to wish you had died- really wish it- instead of seeing the person you love have to suffer. You-"

"Stop!" Frank shouted, and Joe looked up at him, stunned. "Stop being so selfish! You have no idea…" Frank's lip quivered, and his face turned pale, "what I have been through. But this is what _I_ know. You have spent far too much time destroying your life over this! Enough is enough. My god, Joe! You've suffered. We all see that. But so have the Mortons! They lost their child. Chet lost his sister. Callie lost her best friend. We all lost our dear friend. Do you hate yourself so much that you have to put yourself at the center of the universe, doomed to an eternity of suffering?" He tried to calm down, but seeing Joe begin to spiral backwards so quickly was throwing him, and he had to stop it before Joe went too far.

Joe stood up immediately. "Wow," he managed, both shocked and defensive. "Sorry that my life isn't as perfect as yours," he lashed out, vulnerable and angry. "Sorry I don't have your luck or luxury. I cheated on Iola and treated her like trash and she _died._ You cheated on Callie and did the same and she took you back. God knows what -or _who_ -she did behind your back to get back at you, though," he seethed, completely out of control. "Remember that."

Frank snapped, grabbed Joe, and shoved him against the brick wall, knocking the wind out of him. Joe tried to grab his still throbbing ribs from the attack the other day, but he couldn't move. Frank held him completely immobile. He was so close to Joe's face that Joe could see the muscles jumping in his jaw as his eyes pierced right into Joe's soul. He was shaking with rage- and Joe stopped struggling.

"No. Remember _this,_ " Frank hissed. "If you EVER speak to me about Callie like that again, you'll wish you didn't. I promise you that."

Joe glared back at him, breathing hard.

"I'm done with your bullsh- your NONSENSE," Frank corrected himself, choking out the words. "If you want to make Callie your scapegoat for every problem you have, go ahead! But don't you DARE ever say it to me again. And god help you if you hurt her." He shoved Joe back, and Joe grimaced as the wind left slowly his sails. He hadn't wanted to upset his brother. Frank had been trying to help. To see Frank so hurt and angry was the last thing he wanted and he found it hard to believe that he had pushed him that far.

Frank faced the other direction and called upon every self- control mantra he had ever been taught to will himself calm. He was disappointed in himself for letting Joe goad him, effectively proving his point that Joe hated himself and was trying to push him away because he didn't think he deserved any support. He was shocked to feel tears in his own eyes, emotions out of control. He took a few deep breaths before continuing, felt himself getting emotional as fear for his brother, memories of Iola, sympathy for Vanessa, and the crushing guilt of Callie's trauma descended on him. The disappointment that his brother would not budge from his stance against the woman he loved hurt him deeply. And the despair he was starting to feel that he might not be able to save Joe from himself-again-terrified him. If that happened, Vanessa might not be around to help him.

But, damnit, Joe was still his kid brother. _This is not personal. He does not mean it. He's in pain. Help him. I have to help him. _

"Frank-" Joe croaked out.

"Let me tell you something," Frank went on, trying to take the edge out of his voice as he turned around and met his brother's eyes, noting how completely crushed he looked. "You have the greatest gift in the world right in your hands, and you don't see it. You have the beautiful memories of someone who you loved in the past, and the future right in front of you. Don't you think Iola would have wanted that for you?! Look, Joe. I don't even know if I believe in a god or angels sitting on clouds, but if I did, I might just take Vanessa as the surest sign from above that someone is watching over you."

Joe tried to control his breathing and was losing the battle.

Then, Frank did the last thing he expected. He strode back to him and hugged him, and Joe, in turn, just clung to his brother, head on his shoulder. Frank spoke gently as he rubbed Joe's back."Love is rare, but there's room for you to love Iola AND to love Vanessa." He pulled back and squeezed Joe's shoulder. "And for God's sake-most important of all-love _yourself."_

Joe swallowed hard, overwhelmed.

"I'm going," Frank said softly. "Let me go to the jail for Munoz. You handle Stobak here- he texted you anyway; not me." He turned away from Joe, but looked over his shoulder. "Love yourself," he repeated. "And know that I love you. I hope it's enough to make you come to your senses."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A half hour later, Joe took a few deep breaths as he paused at the entrance to Pete Stobak's shop. He was finally calmer, but he knew he had a lot to think about. Frank's words echoed in his head; his heart hurt. It was an awful place to be, feeling alone and not knowing what to do NOT to feel that way. Because now, he wasn't alone- maybe he never had been. It was just hard to accept kindness when he didn't know if he deserved it.

He was making his life a mess again and he knew it.

At 20, he was nearing the end of his childhood and he wasn't quite sure what the adult world entailed. In two months, it would be another anniversary of Iola's death. He'd have to decide, as school started, what he needed from his relationship with Vanessa. He knew that he loved her desperately and had to do right by her, but Frank had been accuarate: he did hate himself. Every step closer to Vanessa was one step further away from Iola. Every step closer to Biff was another one away from Chet. And every step closer to Callie was another one that made him reel back and implode. Why she had that effect on him, he didn't know. So he felt on the threshold of two worlds, not quite in either one; stuck.

It was this vacation, this town, this place of ghosts and pain and last ditch efforts to save something- the High Water Mark of the Confederacy*- that was taking him to this point. Maybe it was the weight of everything now, the feeling that he needed to move forward that was ironically holding him back. He needed to survive this war.

Entering Stobak's shop, he plastered a smile on his face and looked for the man who had texted him.

"Mr. Stobak?" Joe called out. It was early, and there were not many people in the store.

"Pete," Stoback insisted as he appeared from the back of the store. "Mr. Hardy?"

"Joe. Of course," Joe answered with an easy smile. "I got your text last night. Thanks for contacting me. You said you might like to talk?"

He looked slightly uneasy. "If you wouldn't mind, perhaps we could go to the stockroom?" he asked.

"Sure," Joe responded. "Whatever works for you."

When they reached the small room in the back, Pete sat down on a metal folding chair and extended his hand in a gesture that Joe should do the same in the chair opposite him. Joe sat and waited for him to begin.

"Where's your brother?" he asked, anxiously.

Joe, remembering how nervous Frank had made him for some reason, gave a moment of thanks that his brother was not there with him now. He used the fact to his advantage. "Pete, I know that Frank was a little intense the other day; that's just how he approaches life. I can assure you that he's excellent at what he does and that he's taking what happened at your store very seriously. But-" Joe leaned forward conspiratorially, "I gave you MY number. I thought the two of us could speak privately and openly, and I wanted make sure that you felt comfortable." _Or, I was a complete jerk to my brother and he almost kicked my ass. Close enough._ He gave his most innocent expression.

Pete nodded intensely. "Thank you, Joe. I… I don't like to involve the police a lot, but I was thinking about Maggie. I can't believe this happened to her, and I want to get some justice."

"We all do," Joe assured him. "Did you think of anything else? What did you want to discuss?"

Pete studied his fingernails nervously, looking down. "I went over everything that happened and I made a list. I wanted to go through it with you since you said small details can be overlooked. I wrote down every single detail I could think about and times. I… well…"

"Yes?" Joe asked, encouraging him.

"I've always wanted to be a detective. I used to write mystery stories in my younger days and sometimes me and my sister would investigate town issues, like who stole a turtle from a pet store. Things like that. I'm not ashamed to say I solved a case or two in my time."

 _Ooooh, boy_ , Joe silently thought. Overtly, he nodded. "That's really great. I'm sure you'll be an asset to the case. Might I look at your list?" he asked, hoping to move things along.

Slowly and proudly, he handle Joe a yellow legal pad on which was the most detailed list Joe had ever seen in his life.

"I'll get ya a cold soda and let you look through it, and then I can answer any questions, okay?"

"Super!" Joe responded, trying hard not to sound sarcastic. As he read over the list, Joe had to stifle laughs several times. The guy even recorded the times he went to the bathroom! _Thank God he didn't record what happened there,_ he thought with a smile. As silly as a lot of it was, it was interesting to see how he described the customers of the day, where Maggie had been and when, and then, in detail, what he seen. There were a few items that might actually prove useful.

He sensed Pete at the door and beckoned him in, thanking him for the soda. "You did a great job," Joe told him, and noted how the color rose to Pete's cheeks as he took the compliment with a nod.

"Did anything stand out?" Pete asked.

"Actually, yes," Joe answered. "You mention a list of customers who came in that day. Several were unknown, but you had physical descriptions. Do you have a log anywhere of purchases made or video surveillance?"

"No video," Pete replied. "Never had the need for it. Logs? Yeah. I'll get them. Like I said, it was a Tuesday and we weren't terribly busy. Why?"

Joe decided to answer directly. "Because the police didn't find any sign of forced entry, and therefore Maggie may have recognized her attacker. If it wasn't the high tourist season, is that a possibility? Are there more locals than tourists?"

"About 50/50," he answered, pleased to consider himself an asset. "Let me get those logs."

As he waited, Joe contemplated everything he remembered about the attack. Maggie Taylor had been a woman in her mid thirties who had been stabbed to death, though the murder weapon hadn't been found. He'd reviewed the ME's report, though, when he had been in contact with Chief Cruz, and the stab wounds looked as if they had come from a sword, oddly. Pus, there were no hesitation marks, so the attacker was either experienced or almost certainly a man. Maggie had only worked at the store for a month or so, which potentially reduced her chances of recognizing locals. If only there had been a video… but then again, perhaps the perpetrator had known that there was no video. Who the heck attacked with a sword and could go unnoticed?

He'd also tried to find a connection to Archie Pabst, but that was going nowhere fast. Not only was Archie left handed, and the ME report indicated that the sword probably came from right handed person, but also no other gloves or gum wrappers were found at either scene. Plus, Archie and Nellie lived above the building. It wouldn't be out of the question for him to chew gum in his own store. And thus far there was zero connection to Jennifer Knightly. One stabbed; one shot; one attack in progress with a stabbing. It made no sense.

Pete returned with the log of items sold, which Joe perused. Most of it was of no consequence- minor tourist items- though a few items caught his attention, as they were expensive.

"Pete? Do you remember anything about these three items or the customers?" He tried to cross reference the log with the legal pad, but Pete's notes were somewhat hard to follow.

He pointed to an item sold early in the day, an early edition of Michael Shaara's _The Killer Angels*_ for which someone had paid close to $500.

"Uh…" Pete thought for a moment. "Oh yeah. Maggie sold that one. I'm pretty sure that she sold it to a lit professor at the college. He thought it merged history and literature real nice."

"He paid cash," Joe replied, writing down his name from the log book. "That's worth looking into. What about this one?" Joe asked, pointing to a purchase a few hours later of a painting of the Gettysburg battlefield by an acclaimed local artist. "This painting was $2,500."

"He's a great painter! A nice man, too," Pete replied. "I sold that one. He charged that."

"I can see that, thanks," Joe added, writing the name and address down as well.

"What about this one?" he asked, pointing to a purchase of a book called _The Assault on Innocence_. "It was only $300, but that's the third most expensive item."

"Now that's a weird story," Pete replied, biting his nail as he remembered.

"Why?" Joe asked, puzzled.

"See, if you'll notice, we carry mostly antique books, but we do carry newer ones which aren't as valuable. However, if they have a good story, we're interested. Hang on." He left for a few minutes and came back, handing Joe a novel. "See this one? It's exquisite with the artwork. The story is unique and set against the battlefield. It's oversized, as the other one was, an excellent example of art and literature. It could make a great coffee table book or conversation starter."

Joe examined the heavy work, and looked at it closely. He could see what Pete meant. "So why is the book you sold like this a weird story?"

"Well, a customer kept coming in all day to look at it. I remember she was looking around the place and then, when she saw that, she kept returning to it, asking a million questions about it. She came back to buy it and I never saw her again."

"What did she look like?" Joe asked, writing the name and address down again. "Was she local?"

"I don't think so," he admitted. "She was attractive; a little older- maybe late thirties? Blonde hair. Kept looking down; a real nervous type. She bought the book and was gone. Why? Do you think she did it?" he asked, eyes growing wide.

Joe tried not to laugh. "No, sir. Probably not. We're probably looking for a right handed male. Plus, there's no evidence whatsoever that the customers had anything to do with this. But- if they were in the store, maybe they saw something and I could question them. Do you have photos of these items?" he asked. "And can you tell me where these addresses are located- basically- before I program them into my GPS?"

Pete nodded, and returned about ten minutes later with photos of all three items, which he handed to Joe. He peered at Joe's list.

"Dave Evans. He's the college professor. Tall, white, older gentleman. This address is about 10 minutes from the campus."

"Matt Dunkley. African American. I have no idea who he is. That address is in Ohio."

Joe groaned. "Well, I suppose we can almost rule him out, though. He didn't seem to leave an email or phone number. I could find out if I need to, but we'll hold off for now."

Pete shrugged. "And this is Susan Brownmiller, the woman I described to you. Again, I know nothing about her. That address is…" he paused, furrowing his brows. He blushed a bit.

"Pete?" Joe asked.

"That does not seem to be a valid address," he admitted. "It's on a road outside of town that's been closed for years."

"Hmmm," Joe muttered. "You don't check for ID?"

"Not if it's a cash order," he noted. "No reason to. Some people even get offended if you ask for ID. It can be bad for business if it's not necessary."

"Pete," Joe said, standing up and reaching to shake his hand, "I really appreciate your time. I'll let you know as soon as I can if anything comes from these names. In any case, the police are still investigating and so will I. Thanks for your help."

He grabbed the list and photos and headed outside. Nothing made sense. He was grasping at straws even pursuing this angle- that maybe a random customer saw something out of the ordinary on the day that Maggie Taylor was killed. Having nothing else, though, he was going to try.

As he started the long walk back to the Inn where he would wait to speak in detail with Frank about his day and what had happened at the jail, his phone rang. The number came up "unidentified," and he wasn't going to pick it up, but did so anyway.

"Hello?" Joe asked.

"Joe Hardy?" The voice was muffled; distant. It was hard to hear.

"Yes?" he asked. "I can't hear you well."

"Get off this case, Joe Hardy. Now. Or you and your girlfriend will die."

The phone clicked off, and he stared at it in disbelief and horror.

*There is a green bench situated in the center of town, and Gettysburg did contain what became known the High Water Mark of the Confederacy. The Killer Angels is a real novel by Shaara (it's great!).


	17. Chapter 17

**Note:** _This chapter marks the halfway point through this story_. _Thank you to those who have been kind enough to leave a review since the last chapter: Drumboy100, Tinee Dancer, hlahabibty, max 2013, BeeBee18, EvergreenDreamweaver, Paulina Ann, Erin Jordan, sm2003495, and BMSH. You all make a difference, and are much appreciated!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 17

Not an hour after he had left Joe at the town center, Frank turned off the car in front of the police station. He was going to check in with Chief Cruz and then decide if it was necessary to speak with Jaden Munoz again, see what developments the Chief may have come up with, and then possibly meet with the Pabsts, as only Joe and Vanessa had spoken with them.

He also was starting to get anxious to help the Williams family, who had been nothing but gracious to them all, especially to him and Callie. The free rooms and hospitality at the busiest time of the year went above all expectations. At the same time, the 'ghosts', dead woman, scaffolding accident, shot out windows, and the poisoning the other night had him on edge.

He took a moment to compose himself, closing his eyes and breathing steadily. Everything was a mess right now, and he was feeling the pressure of being the supposedly wise older brother who knew how to fix everything, to carry everyone else's burdens to lighten their loads. In one way, he had never minded the responsibility that had been thrust upon him; he DID like order and looking out for people and being responsible. It made him feel good about himself.

On the other hand, it weighed on him constantly. Any time that he could not fix something, or he let people down, he felt that albatross around his neck. Joe was really, really hard to keep in line a lot of the time, and, though he loved him dearly, he was a major pain in the ass. Joe's ability to talk and charm himself out of every conceivable scenario had allowed him to be irresponsible and immature, and though he had faith that Joe would grow up and come into his own because he was such a genuinely good person, it was tough right now. Iola's death had thrust him, completely unprepared, into the real world, and he was still reeling from the pain of it, just in a more subdued way than he had done years earlier. Then, of course, Frank had betrayed Callie once and had been unable to prevent her… he couldn't even think about it, feeling nauseated suddenly. He took several more deep breaths before letting his thoughts wander again. It was hard to keep Chet's spirits up sometimes, to balance school and sports and his parents' expectations, to be the one who had all the pressure to solve cases and to fix everything.

But that's what he did, and therefore, that's who he was. No use complaining about it.

Frank wished that he could talk about his problems sometimes, but he'd learned to handle things on his own. He knew that he could talk to Callie about anything, but he would never make her terrible pain about him in any way. He needed to support her and love her fiercely to help her through this still raw time. Plus, he didn't feel quite right complaining to her about Joe too much, given their at times volatile relationship. He wanted Callie to love Joe, not to harbor doubts about him. He held out hope that one day Callie could confide in Joe and allow him to really know her, because, if she did, he knew that Joe would take care of her heart and love her, too. He also knew that he could talk to Joe about anything... except for Callie's secret. Yet, he would never complain to Joe about Callie, either, and add fuel to his fire. Joe needed to open up to Callie if they were ever going to move on, but they were both too damned stubborn for their own good.

 _One day...one day._ He clung to that phrase because he had to. The two people he loved most in the world, who were scarily similar in so many ways, had to have a breakthrough at some point. Sadly, that point was not now.

He got out of the car with a sigh and walked into the building, flipping the switch to "off" on his emotions. He'd gotten very good at compartmentalizing and letting logic rule the past few years.

"Chief Cruz," Frank stated, almost walking into him in the entrance. "Sorry about that. I was hoping that you might have a few minutes to talk. I should have called. I apologize."

"Not at all," Chief Cruz responded with a small grin. "It's been chaotic here, as you know, but if we can get through the next few days, though it'll still be busy, things should slow down sufficiently and we can get on top of everything. Tonight's going to be a mess," he added, as he indicated for Frank to follow him through the station into his office, located at the back.

"Why? The holiday?" Frank asked casually.

"You've no idea," he responded. "Balls everywhere, fireworks, re-enactments, and more tourists crowding the streets than you can imagine."

Arriving at the office, Frank took a seat across from Cruz. "Yeah, the town's mobbed," he agreed, making small talk.

"Any leads?" Cruz asked, cutting to the chase.

"Not really," Frank replied, dejectedly. "Joe met with the Pabsts and had some suspicions about Archie based on him being left handed and chewing the same type of gun found at the scene, but nothing other than that. He seems to remember that there was something he saw that he just can't identify, but he's blocking it out for some reason, and Vanessa hasn't been able to offer much more."

"Archie Pabst?" Cruz asked, homing in on that detail. "We've never had any issues with him. He's been a pretty upstanding citizen for years. Nah," he shook his head, "I think you can cross him off any suspect list you have. He's a victim."

Frank shrugged. "I'm not disagreeing, but I'm also not willing to cross anyone off the list yet, either. I'm going to talk to the Pabsts again later, myself, just to see if they offer any other information that Joe might have missed. It's really pretty unusual that in their attack, as well as the first murder, there was no robbery. If there's connection, what could the motive be? That's what we're looking into. In fact, Joe went to see Peter Stobak today. He texted Joe last night to say that he wanted to speak with him, so hopefully there's something new on that front," Frank answered.

"Motive is what's bothering me, too," Cruz admitted. "That, and method of killing. Why go from a stabbing- with a sword!, to a gunshot, to another attempted stabbing. I'm very concerned that we're dealing with separate entities here, but what would the chances be of that? Unlikely, I'd think."

"It seems personal to the victims as well," Frank went on, "if, again, there was nothing stolen. However, for the life of me, I can't see any connection among them."

"Yup," Cruz agreed. "Plus, there was the attempted shooting at you and your brother. I know I've discussed with you your theory that your brother was the attempted target, and I'm inclined to agree with you there, only because it may be connected with what he and his girlfriend witnessed- or what someone think they witnessed." He leaned forward. "Which means-"

Frank nodded, saw where he was going. "Yeah, if it's true, then somehow the attack Joe saw is the connecting factor. But to what? The only thing that makes it different is the fact that it was a failed attempt. Really, the oddball crime was the shooting," Frank concluded. "Let's not forget that some madman tried to shoot at my brother in the middle of the street, and that he was attacked with one of our friends. Someone is after Joe, for sure. The key to solving the mystery here is to identify why that is."

"Speaking of which," Cruz went on, "I wanted to go over some loose ends with you. No fingerprints came back on that rifle, which wasn't surprising. The rifle is a dime a dozen here, standard issue rifled muskets from the Civil War."

"Joe said that he saw his attacker run into a mansion in the town that was holding a Confederate Convention, of all things. Did you get a list of names?"

"Unfortunately not," Cruz replied. "And the rifle used, before I forget to mention, was issued to both Union and Confederate soldiers, so that's not help at all in terms of a lead if we're even thinking a possible re-enactor may be a suspect. I have no list of names other than the local chapter, which I'll certainly get for you before you leave today, because any re-enactor from around the country was invited to the Roundtables on both sides. The only limit was how many they could take."

Frank sighed. "Okay," he said at last. "What about a list of buggy owners?"

"I have that and I'l get it for you, but the buggy involved in the incident with your brother has not been specifically identified and, despite the hundreds of eyewitnesses, there's not one reliable account. Few people came forward and- shocker," he rolled his eyes, "their accounts vary widely. No accountability."

"Joe and I spoke with Munoz at the jail. One thing bothered me. Something about that scream didn't make sense. Would you mind if I spoke with him again?"

"Good luck," Cruz replied. "He was released yesterday; we couldn't hold him."

Frank leaned back and looked at the ceiling in frustration. "Can I get a copy of his written statement to review again?"

"Of course. Hang on." Cruz picked up the phone and made a call to the records department, asking for the documents he had promised to Frank to be brought up.

"The bullets fired at us in the lot?" Frank asked, getting desperate. "Any leads?"

"Again, standard issue and available in bulk at any number of shops here and around the town."

"So the only hope is to interview the people again and pray that they know something that they don't think they know." Fearing that the murder cases had no more leads, he decided to change the topic. "Have you found out anything about what happened at the Williams' Inn? My girlfriend was one of the victims, so I have a personal interest now. Things are getting serious there and I'd like to help them."

Chief Cruz smiled. "They're nice people, yes. You know about the chemical used; I gave you that information. Dangerous stuff, but, unfortunately, easily accessible. No more leads with the scaffolding or shooting, either. What happened was very serious, though, and we may need to get federal officials involved soon if we can't get to the bottom of it. That was an attempted mass murder, in my eyes." His voice grew serious.

"Did you look into the woman who died there?" Frank asked. "I assume it wasn't a ghost that killed her."

"No, it wasn't," Cruz agreed. "It wasn't murder, either. Chalie always suspected pneumonia, and he was correct. That's a dead end again… no pun intended there."

Frank was starting to get a headache. All of this information was leading nowhere, and both he and Cruz knew it.

"Charlie and his niece mentioned that there was some real estate drama? What do you know about that?"

Cruz shrugged. "Not a lot, since it's not a police matter. I do know that land is extremely valuable and that Inn is worth a lot. I don't care if the whole world tries to diminish its value with these ghost threats; that Inn can be rebranded in a minute. The parks system wants to buy it through eminent domain, historical societies have tried to buy it, and individuals have wanted it as well. The location is prime real estate. I just hope Charlie doesn't give it away. He deserves better."

"Okay. I'll be in touch, then," Frank replied. Thanking Chief Cruz, he shook his hand, gathered the records that had been brought in, and headed on his way, completely frustrated.

On a whim, he decided to drop by the Pabsts on the way back to the Inn. An hour later, he left, more confused than ever. Archie was a little off-he'd seen what Joe had meant- and something about Nellie made him take pause as well, though he couldn't put his finger on it. He'd have to discuss that meeting in detail with his brother.

Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was close to 12:30 and he was hungry and tired. They still had to get ready for the Ball tonight, which was the last thing that he wanted to do. But, for Vanessa's sake, he was going to go, and he would go with a smile.

All of a sudden, his phone started buzzing like crazy. Groaning, he realized that he must have been in a dead zone for wifi, and now all the texts were hitting at once.

He gasped as they came in, one after another, eyes wider with each one he read.

Callie: _Call me. Please. Need you._

Joe: N _ot gonna believe this. Death threats. CALL ME. Big trouble._

Callie: _Babe, where are you? In room now. Please hurry. Scared._

Callie: _Baby?_

Joe: _Dude-where the hell are you?_

Chet: _Uh, Frank? Callie's freaked out. Might wanna come._

Joe: _WTF Frank? Get to me and Van now!_

Chief Cruz: _Get to my office immediately or call. ANOTHER MURDER._

Heart pounding, he texted one word, "COMING," and sent it to all four simultaneously. He didn't think it was possible, but somehow, everything had just gotten a whole lot worse.


	18. Chapter 18

**Note:** _T_ _hank you for the kind reviews left since the last chapter to drumboy100, BMSH, Tin Dog, BeeBee18, hlahabibty, sm2003495, iheartninjago2010 (hi!), Orions Belte, max2013, Paulina Ann, EvergreenDreamweaver, Erin Jordan, and Hero 76. Your feedback is very much appreciated. Enjoy!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 18

Heart pounding hard, Frank raced back to the Inn, making it in record time. Joe had sounded more anxious than in trouble, and a dead person wasn't going anywhere, so he practically flew through the hallways, taking the steps two or three at a time, until he reached his room.

"Cal!" he called, breathing hard as he tried to find his key card. Seeing it at last, he retrieved it from his wallet, entered the card into the slot, and burst into the room. Not seeing Callie at first, he started to panic when he noticed that the bathroom door was shut. He crossed the room in five quick strides and started knocking. "Callie!" he shouted.

In an instant, the door swung open and Callie looked up. She was pale and disheveled, her breathing totally uneven. "What's wrong?" he asked as he wrapped her in his arms. She was trembling badly, clinging to him. He felt his own heart beating hard.

"Are you hurt?!" he asked, trying to sound calm though he was terrified by her reaction. "Callie, baby, I can't help you if you don't talk to me." He felt her trying to control her breathing, though failing, and reverted to what he knew instinctively to do now. Obviously, no matter what had happened, she was scared and her reaction was all too familiar to him. He held her closer, rubbing her back gently, and whispered, over and over, "I'm here. You're safe now."

It was only after a good five minutes that he felt her trembling wane, felt the tenseness start to leave her body and her breathing steady, and ceased to feel the wetness on his his shirt.

Slowly, he released his arms from around her and cupped her face with his hands, wiping away the last of her tears as he looked into her reddened eyes. "Tell me what happened. You're safe," he repeated.

Callie nodded slowly and let out a long, slow breath. "I'm sor-"

"Stop," he cut her off. "I love you. You never have to be sorry; you know that. What you do need to do is tell me what happened. Can you do that?"

She nodded and, holding his hand, led him to the antique couch. Her breathing was still haggard, but he could tell that she was stronger. "I spent the morning with Vanessa," she began unsteadily as he rubbed her hand, and he was proud of her for getting herself together so quickly. "We had a really nice talk. Everything was good."

"Go on," he said gently.

"Then, there was a knock on the door. Sarah came up and said that she never got to finish showing me around the Inn, and asked if I wanted to go with her and her friend, so I figured, why not? I… I thought it was a good idea."

"Okay. That makes sense. So far, so good," he replied patiently, his heart still aching at the look in her eyes.

"So… you know…" she took another deep breath and squeezed his hand, "I went with Sarah and her friend Nancy. Yeah, I know... I should have known it wouldn't have ended well," she joked weakly.

Frank snickered in spite of himself and felt a small smile come to his lips. This was his Callie. If she could make a joke, even at his expense, he knew she'd be okay. He released her hand and slipped his arm protectively around her shoulders. Then he added suddenly, "Was she a redhead?"

"Frank!" she exclaimed, shocked, but leaned her head against his shoulder for a minute and he saw her lips curl into a smile, and knew that the joke had been the right thing to say to ease the tension.

To his astonishment, he heard her laugh softly. "Actually, she was. If she has her damned detective badge, I'm out."

Frank let a small laugh escape and kissed her head gently. "I take it that more happened than that. Go on, honey. Get it out. Let me help."

She let out a breath and started slowly again. "We walked around the property for maybe 30 minutes, and then Sarah said that some of the Inn's best antiques were kept in the basement, and that she had permission to show us. So we went." Callie closed her eyes and a clouded look came over her face. Frank tightened his arm around her and whispered in her ear, "It's okay. I'm with you. What happened?"

She nodded as she wrapped her arms around herself. "We…" she began, and he heard the slight tremor in her voice, "we went downstairs. It's huge. We were down there maybe five minutes and… all the lights went off. It was pitch black." He felt her start to tremble again and he rubbed her shoulder in comfort. "All of a sudden, it got freezing cold...and…" she sniffled, raising a shaking hand to her eyes, "Nancy started screaming. I couldn't see anything. I tried to go in the direction of the door and it was locked. I… I was… trapped."

 _Oh, God._ He couldn't imagine her horror, what she must have been thinking. He kissed her forehead tenderly. "You are okay," he whispered. Raising his voice slightly, he said soothingly, "You were trapped in a room. I-"

"That's not all," she went on, turning so that Frank could wrap both of his arms around her. "I couldn't see. I didn't know why Nancy was screaming. And then Sarah started screaming, too, but she was shouting, 'Let me go! Don't touch me!' and I was so scared," she added, her voice almost a whimper.

"I understand," he told her, calmly, though he was furious inside.

"Then-"

"There's more?" he asked, incredulous.

She nodded against his chest. "The girls were screaming and calling out and then I felt… someone grab…"

"Someone touched you?" he cut her off, incensed and horrified.

She clung to him. "I couldn't see, but somebody grabbed my arms behind my back." She sat straight up and looked as if she was going to throw up.

"Breathe," he told her. "Breathe. Slowly. You're safe." God, HE wanted to throw up.

She finally turned to him again and met his eyes. "His hands were so cold. They were freezing. And then I felt something at my neck and I heard the word 'Leave' in this raspy voice, and then I got shoved on the floor. Like a minute later, the lights came on and the door squeaked open. Sarah and Nancy were crying about a ghost, and there was this crowd of people around and they all started talking about a ghost, too. I just ran - bumped right into Chet- and locked myself in here. I… tried to get you…"

Frank stood suddenly and pulled her up with him, crushing her to him as he stroked her hair almost furiously. Normally, he never held her so tightly that she would feel as though she were trapped, but now, he needed her in his arms. By the way she clung to him, he knew that distance was the furthest thing from her mind as well.

For anyone, the experience would have been scary. But for Callie, god, he couldn't imagine. He felt a coldness spread throughout his own body at the thought of someone touching her, pushing her, making her feel trapped and threatened. If he could have killed the person who had made her feel this way, he would have. No one would hurt his girl again under his watch. He wanted to take her in the car and drive her back to Bayport immediately, and build a fortress around her. For all the advice he had given to Joe about needing to have happiness in his own life, why it was irrational to push Vanessa away, he was beginning to understand it more. He would let Callie go in a second if he could ensure her safety forever.

"I'm okay now," she managed at last, pulling away from him. "I didn't know what to do. I couldn't find you, and I… I…"

"What, baby?" he asked her, feeling terrible.

"I didn't want to upset you if I… called…"

It dawned on him and he sighed, shaking his head. "Call him. Call Johnny. If you ever cannot get in touch with me again, you call him and you let him help you. Don't even think of me; it's not about me. I wish," he started, his voice shaky, "I wish I could send you to Joe if I wasn't around. I know he would take care of you, and this is exactly why this standoff you guys have needs to end. But listen to me- I told you Johnny and I were going to talk, and we are. No matter what we do or don't think about each other, I'm pretty sure that he does love you." He fought back the pain, which shockingly wasn't as sharp as it once once. "And you are my LIFE and all I care about, so you do what you need to do to take care of yourself. Okay?"

She weakly smiled. "Okay."

"But thanks for thinking of me anyway," he added, softness in his expression. "Just don't do it again."

Callie managed a small laugh. "Okay," she repeated.

"Callie, I need to look into this. Today. As soon as possible. Definitely before the Ball. But first I need to talk to Joe - it's really important. And then I need to call Chief Cruz. I'm going to stop and see Chet and Biff first, just to let them both know you're okay, and I'll send them in to stay with you."

"No. I need to be alone. I want to rest before the dance- I promised Vanessa I'd go- despite poison and a ghost attack," she tried to say lightly, though her tone betrayed her.

He looked uncertainly at the door. "I don't want to leave you."

"You can," she replied. "I just needed you here before." She gave a pale smile. "I'll be better by tonight; I promise. I'll call Chet, too."

Frank remained amazed at her strength, knowing full well how even a minute of terror could have set her back so far, and in deep admiration for how she had not let it do so. "I-"

"Go," she encouraged him. "Really. I'm okay now."

He wasn't quite sure that he believed her, but he had no choice, really. Leaning down, he hugged her tightly again and kissed her quickly. "I love you. I will be back as soon as I can."

She nodded, and watched him leave.

Alone in her room, she quickly locked the door behind him and fought the urge to block it with a couch or something else. She texted Chet and told him that she was fine, and was sorry that she had scared him, and she made sure that all of the lights were turned on brightly. She'd have to start getting ready for the Ball in about two hours, but, in the meantime, she crawled onto the bed and clung tightly to a pillow.

Fifteen minutes later, having closed her eyes, she felt her heart start pounding, a cold sweat break out on her forehead as the memory of that coldness, that forcible grab, made her stomach clench. She fought back tears at the assault of memories.

Callie didn't want to need anyone to help her. She wanted desperately only to rely on herself, but she just wasn't there yet, though her therapist assured her that she was doing much better and that, in time, she could control her reaction when the terror threatened to overwhelm her. Maybe she had made a mistake in not telling her parents what had happened; she considered that often. But the harsh truth, the one that clung to her in her darkest times, was that she had been deeply ashamed and embarrassed in addition to being severely physically assaulted and emotionally traumatized. It didn't matter if it made sense, and she knew it wasn't logical. Still- it continued to be her reality, and the relentless that guilt she felt about dragging the two men she loved with her into the mire was ever present. John had been there for her after it had happened, and, when she was reunited with Frank, and knew he'd be her partner, she had to tell him. But she longed desperately to bury it, and one day she would. Right now, though, she felt a maelstrom of emotion and longed for a reprieve from the storm.

Swallowing hard, she looked at the cell phone clutched in her hand and went to call Frank. Then she thought of his words, saw how much he had not wanted to leave her, but that he had pressing duties. And without a second thought, with no guilt at all after the conversation she had had with Frank, she hit the second number in her contact list, praying hard as the phone began to ring: one, two, three times.

"Hello? Callie?" the familiar voice asked.

"Johnny?" she asked at last, unable to hide the relief in her quivering voice. "Have a few minutes?"

"Sweetheart, always for you," came the reply. "What's wrong, honey?"

She smiled softly, thanking god for the two people in her life on whom she could unconditionally depend.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Where the hell have-" Joe began, but froze when he saw the look on his brother's face. "What's wrong?"

Frank shook his head before he answered. He had run to Joe and Vanessa's room quickly after leaving Callie, and he was eager to talk to him. Cautiously, choosing each word carefully, he explained what had happened with Callie, giving just the facts. There was no way Joe would ever understand the base terror that it had instilled in her; in him.

"Wow. That's terrible. Is she okay?" Joe asked, eyes full of concern.

Frank closed his eyes for a moment, relief flooding through his body. He couldn't have said what he would have done if Joe had chosen that moment to mouth off. "She will be," he responded, somewhat curtly. "Thanks for asking."

"You know I'll help you look into that. Don't worry."

Frank nodded, grateful for his brother's reaction.

"Can I ask where you were?" Joe questioned, changing the subject. He held up a finger. "I'm not giving you the third degree. It's just that I needed to talk to you."

"With Officer Cruz, and then the Pabsts," Frank responded quickly. "Sit, Joe. I have a lot to review with you." As succinctly as he could, he relayed the facts about the murders and the Inn that he had discussed with Officer Cruz and his talk with the Pabsts. He could tell that Joe was listening intently, making a lot of mental notes, and Frank felt better. Joe was much, much smarter than many people thought he was; than he pretended to be. By the time he was finished talking, he felt himself starting to relax.

The feeling didn't last long.

As soon as Joe dropped his bomb about the threatening call, Frank's mouth fell open. "Are you _kidding_ me? What?! Where's Vanessa?"

"I got back here as soon as I could and I called Chief Cruz. He's sending that officer who was with Van last night back here. I only spoke to her for five minutes, and then I sent her to Biff right next door. She's scared and I'm PISSED!" he announced, slamming the table.

"Could you trace-"

"Nope," Joe cut Frank off. "No way it was long enough. Plus, no idiots call from real phones anymore; it's probably one of those throw away phones, but Cruz is checking just in case. Basically, someone wants me off the case, so I'm important for some reason, which we need to figure out. I draw the line at Vanessa. I-" his voice cut off momentarily.

Frank sighed and rubbed his back. "I know, Joe. BELIEVE me. I completely get it."

Joe looked into Frank's eyes and nodded slowly. "Let me tell you about MY day." Just as Frank had done, Joe relayed the events of the day, ending with, "so I think we need to look at the documents that we both have and see if they reveal anything at all. It's unlikely, but we have to try. And I'm actually kind of glad that you stopped at the Pabsts, too. You're right. Just like the scream didn't make sense with Munoz and something was off with Stobak, I swear that I saw something that I need to remember. I think I need your help."

"Yes. Of course," Frank adamantly agreed.

"Do you want to call Cruz or shall I?" Joe asked. "I got the same damned text that you did."

"All you," Frank replied. He was drained. "Go ahead."

Joe nodded and punched Cruz's number into the phone. He placed it on speaker so that he and Frank could both listen in.

On the second ring, Cruz picked up. "Hello?"

"Chief? It's Joe and Frank Hardy. What happened?"

There was an audible sigh on the other end of the line. "I'm going to keep it simple this time. It was a local teenage girl- Kennedy Lane. Apparently, she had snuck off with her boyfriend behind the new Museum and they were engaged in risque behavior. They had some sort of argument, she walked away. When the boyfriend went after her, not 15 minutes later, she was dead."

Joe saw Frank rest his head in his hands, completely lost. "Stabbing or gunshot?" Joe asked warily.

"Neither," Cruz responded. "Isn't that a kick in the ass? She was beaten with some type of blunt object- all the blows were to her head. We've notified the family but we're trying to keep it quiet for tonight, since the crowds should start to thin out tomorrow. But we have police from four neighboring towns here on patrol, on foot and in cruisers. The tourists will think it's because it's the Fourth of July celebrations on the anniversary of the Battle, but the shit's going to hit the fan soon. We're calling in extra help all around. We have a real serious problem, and I need you two to help. Call your father if need be. I will not see another murder in my town." He hung up the phone.

Before Joe could say a word, Frank lifted his head. "I don't know, Joe. I have no idea."

Joe sighed. He, too, was at a loss.

The brothers sat in silence, waiting for some sort of epiphany, as the clock ticked slowly, eating away time.


	19. Chapter 19

**Note:** _This is the longest chapter in the story at almost 6,500 words. It's the chapter about the Ball, but it's not really about that at all. This chapter shows how Joe's struggles cannot be avoided much longer, and marks a major turning point. Thank you to those following and especially those reviewing the story: Drumboy100, Orions Belte, Tin Dog, BeeBee19, sm2003495, EvergreenDreamweaver, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, BMSH, Tinee Dancer, Hero 76, and max2013. It's always encouraging to hear from people._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 19

Joe opened the door to his room, struggling with the stupid uniform that was threatening to cut his air supply off.

He and Frank had been banished to Chet and Biff's room while the girls got ready in their own rooms. Chet and Biff had teased him and Frank mercilessly about their uniforms, but Joe's comebacks weren't up to their usual standards, given the fact that he kind of agreed with them. At least, after tonight, he and Frank could get back to their cases and put some of this silliness behind them. With any luck, he could convince the guys to get Callie and Vanessa out of there and go to Hershey Park. Hell, he'd be happy if they were across the country, as long as they were out of danger.

When he saw Vanessa, though, suddenly everything melted away. He watched as she smiled shyly at him.

"I never would have thought it," he said softly to her when he reached her and slipped his arms around her waist. "How the hell anyone can make those dresses look sexy, but damn." He let out a low whistle and smiled when he saw spots of color touch Vanessa's cheeks.

Vanessa was dressed in a ballgown from the era, the light blue color bringing out that tone in her eyes. The top was surprisingly low-cut, and the corset that she had been complaining about made her look downright voluptuous, curvier than her normally thin, model frame. Her hair was piled high on her head, which he'd never actually seen arranged that way before, and it emphasized her high cheekbones and soft skin. He couldn't stop staring at her.

"You like it?" she asked him, in a low voice.

"I love it so much that I cannot wait to get you out of it," he replied with a wink, making her blush even more.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her close, kissing her deeply. God, he'd missed this. He craved her company, laughter, conversation, and physical intimacy. Always demonstrative by nature, he felt acutely the distance between them, emotionally and physically, that had been building and which had culminated this week.

Apparently, Vanessa felt the same way, as she returned his kisses with equal passion.

He felt his eyes burn as he forced himself to stop for a moment, breathing heavily as he placed his hands on the side of her face and looked into her eyes. He saw the tears in them as well.

"I am a stupid, selfish jackass," he whispered to her. "And I owe you an explanation about a lot of things."

"I'm scared," she replied, biting her lip, and letting a tear slip through.

"Me, too," he admitted, trying to control his chin from quivering. "And we have a lot- a LOT- to talk about. But know two things," he whispered, looking intensely into her eyes. "It is entirely MY fault, and, no matter what happens, I love you more than you will ever know. If _we_ fail, it's because _I_ failed."

"I don't want us to fail," she managed, trying not to cry.

"Neither do I," he answered. "And I'm going to fight for you- for us. I promise you, baby. I know you don't understand, and I am more sorry than you will ever know that I've hurt you."

She nodded, looking down.

"Let me show you that I love you," he whispered, needing her, his deep kisses expressing all the things he wanted to say but couldn't, because he didn't quite get it himself. "Please don't make me think about anything other than us right now."

"We… we don't have long," she moaned as he held her immobile against the bedpost.

"So we'll be late," he managed as he reached for her dress and started to unbutton it. "Isn't that fashionable?" he breathed into her ear.

"Completely," she responded, giving in, needing, just like Joe, not to think, only to feel.

It was a start.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Frank knocked at the door to his own room, having left when Vanessa had called Joe to their room.

He had made it a point to keep in touch with Callie throughout the afternoon, and, though he was certain that she wasn't recovered from earlier, she did sound better, as though she wanted to push the memory of it far away from her. He'd been able to speak with Joe and Joe with him about their respective afternoons, and they'd spoken with Chief Cruz, but time had gone too quickly and he'd not been able to speak with Sarah or Nancy yet, something he intended fully to do, without excuse, tomorrow.

He made it a point NOT to tell her about anything yet; she needed to relax and have fun tonight.

"Frank?" He heard Callie's voice and her footsteps as she came to the door.

As soon as she opened the door, she smiled. "Honey, you have a key. Use it."

"Well, look at you," he said tenderly as he stepped through the door and strode to her. He reached out to her and rubbed her arms gently as he looked into her eyes. "You look beautiful. And stronger," he added, proud of her.

Callie smiled and laughed softly. "I look ridiculous, although I won't lie; this is kind of fun," she added with a twinkle in her eye. "You, on the other hand, look positively dashing." She rested her hands on his chest and straightened the collar of his uniform before touching his cheek lightly where the bruise from his accident remained still, though fading. "My poor, wounded soldier. But still the most handsome man at the Ball tonight, I'm sure."

Frank smiled and kissed her lightly. "We have about 20 minutes until we have to meet up with Joe and Vanessa before the dance starts," he replied softly.

Callie laughed. "Baby, no way. It'd take me longer to get undressed."

Frank chuckled. "I look forward to finding out if your time frame is correct later, then," he teased her. "In the meantime, come and lie down with me."

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked him, concerned.

"Honestly?" he answered with a small sigh. "It's been a long day for me, too. I've been worried sick about you; investigating a fourth murder and the...incident… with you; Joe and I have a very few leads on the murder cases; Joe is driving me nuts; we're getting threats against Joe and Vanessa…"

Callie gasped. "What?"

"They're okay now. We're dealing with it. But I'm mentally exhausted and I'd really like nothing better than to hold the woman I love in my arms for a few minutes of peace in this hell of a vacation". He touched her cheek with the pad of his thumb and winked at her.

Callie nodded and took his hand, leading him to the bed. "I'm afraid I may have to sit up with you and cuddle, if I even fit on the bed." She referred to the huge hoop skirt on her dress.

"Good enough," Frank replied, sitting on the bed with the pillows stacked behind his back. He reached out his arms for her and pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

He held her silently for a few glorious minutes, closing his eyes and wishing desperately he could just stay with her the whole night and forget the world weariness he now felt; the burden of trying to protect Joe from himself. It was getting harder and harder to keep his patience, too, as Joe tested him about Callie. Unconsciously, he held her closer. What the hell was wrong with Joe? Couldn't he understand how happy Callie made him, what a strong, brave, smart, incredible person she was? Why was he using Callie as a major target of all his anger and sadness? Yet, still. He couldn't abandon his duty to his brother. He loved him.

"Are you okay, Frank?" Callie asked him softly, and he opened his eyes, looked down at her, and kissed her softly.

"No," he answered honestly. "But I will be. I'm going to try to be brave like you." He gave her a small wink.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, rubbing his hand gently.

Frank squeezed her hand. He was so comfortable despite the stiffness of the uniform he was wearing, with his arm around her waist and his other hand intertwined in hers, resting on his chest. "I do not," he admitted. "But I always appreciate the offer and I know that I CAN talk to you. Thank you, baby." He looked at his watch. "Five minutes," he groaned.

"It's better than nothing," she replied, looking up and kissing his cheek.

"It is," he agreed and smiled at her. "You really _do_ look beautiful," he said softly, examining her gold dress adorned with red roses, her hair pulled back in a bun with soft tendrils caressing the front of her face. "Like Cinderella at the Ball."

"Oh, honey, don't say that," she replied with a laugh. "That Ball did not end well."

Frank started laughing, himself. "Learn to take a compliment!" he joked. Then, something caught his eye. "What's that on your hand?" he questioned, looking at a beautiful antique ring.

"Isn't it pretty?" she asked. "Part of the costume rental for tonight included replicas of the jewelry of the time period. No wonder the costume place was so expensive!" she chuckled. She looked at the ring under the light and watched it glitter, smiling at it as she unwillingly pulled herself away from Frank's arms and stood up, smoothing down her ballgown. "Come on, soldier boy," she motioned him.

"The ring's lovely," he agreed, forcing himself up as he straightened out his own costume. He stopped for a moment to look at her.

"What?" she asked, with a grin. "We'll be late."

"The horror," he replied, rolling his eyes as he reached for her hand, which he brought to his lips and kissed softly. "I was just thinking that a ring might look even nicer on your left hand. One day."

Callie blushed, and followed him out of the room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe closed his eyes and breathed in the cool and tranquil night air. He felt ridiculous in the stupid uniform, and, when he had seen an opportunity to slip out close to 11:00, while Vanessa and Frank were involved in some discussion of tactical maneuvers with a group of 'soldiers', he had taken it immediately. The sad thing was that they actually seemed interested in it.

He reached up and loosened his collar, taking another long sip of his ale. Truth be told, the alcohol was the only thing keeping him sane this evening. He was definitely starting to get drunk, and he knew should stop, as he was well aware how he could get when he drank. Most of the time, drinking made him even more lighthearted and fun, but sometimes it made him angry. Right now, he could go either way. The drinking had been out of control after Iola died; Frank had heard correctly. But he had straightened his life out with Vanessa. FOR Vanessa, he realized with a start. Even more good that she had done him. Frank's words from the day before echoed in his brain.

The awkwardness with Vanessa was still there and he had to confront it. Tonight had been an amazing start, but their union was filled with an urgency and desperation that he hadn't been used to, as though their passion was so intense it could fuel them forever or burn them out of existence. He loved her unyieldingly… almost enough to give her up to save her from himself. For the first time in a long time, he was genuinely afraid. And, as usual, he was running away to avoid dealing with it and hated himself for doing so.

"Hey, soldier. Dare I encroach on your territory?"

Joe turned around and saw Callie making her way towards him, a harder task than it should have been given the size of the ballgown on her diminutive frame. _Great._ He shrugged and gave her a tight smile. "Is it proper for a lady to be seen with a gentleman, alone, this late at night?" he teased.

"Oh, you'd be a valiant gentleman, saving a lady from an evening of boredom," she replied back, a twinkle in her eye as she stood next to him against a railing overlooking the battle grounds.

"Ugh," he agreed. "It's awful, isn't it?"

Callie smiled. "Oh, it's not that bad. It's kind of fun, in a nerdy way. I don't mind dressing up, and I've learned a lot, actually. The dancing was my favorite part and I did enjoy the music. I'm glad you and Vanessa finally arrived to partake of the evening," she added wryly, noting that they had been 45 minutes late, time she would have loved, herself, to have spent privately cuddling with Frank. And somehow, Vanessa and Joe had managed to look a little less proper than some of the other couples, their clothing just the slightest bit off. She inwardly smiled, happy for Vanessa, at least. She'd needed Joe, and she was glad that Joe had seemingly been there for her.

Joe raised a brow to her and suppressed a grin. "Then why is m'lady out here?" he queried, not quite sure where this was going.

"Fair point," she agreed, to his surprise. "I just needed a little air before the fireworks at midnight. Our significant others are inside and are enjoying themselves, and I thought I'd check on you." She glanced at the cup in his hand. "Enjoying the drinks?" she asked, keeping her voice even.

"Yup," he replied, and downed the rest of the cup. "I might go back in for more. Care to join me?"

"I think you might have had enough," she answered him.

Joe felt something inside him let loose, driven by the alcohol. He was starting to feel his inhibitions slip away, and he suddenly thought that was a very good thing. "I don't really care what the morality police think this evening," he answered. "I'll be back in a minute if you care to stay."

Several minutes later, he returned with two more cups of beer. He offered one to Callie, who now stood with her arms crossed. "No thank you," she answered curtly. "I don't like beer."

"Well you should try it some time," he goaded her, not knowing why he was doing so. "Maybe it'd loosen you up a bit and you wouldn't be such a stuck up pain in the ass."

"You know what?" she fumed. "Maybe I WILL take it." With that, she grabbed the cup of beer from his hand and threw it right in his face. "Loose enough for you?"

Joe's mouth fell open and his eyes filled with fury as he wiped his face and blinked hard. "You b-" he started, but bit his tongue hard before he let the word escape his lips. In the recesses of his mind, he saw his brother's face.

"Yeah, _I'm_ the b*tch," Callie retorted, seeing red. "F*ck you, Joe. Go to hell. God, you make me furious!" She realized she was shouting and didn't care as they were alone outside. Good. It was time for this to happen.

Joe grabbed her arm. "I hate you sometimes," he seethed. "You're no good for my brother. I don't trust you at all!"

"Let GO of me!" she shouted, trying to pull away from him, but his grip was relentless. "Yeah, we covered this the other day, or are you too stupid to remember that?"

"Classy, Callie!" he yelled at her, squeezing her arm even tighter. "Do you think I want to see you hurt Frank again? You came back at Christmas to Chet's party with your new boyfriend and then disappeared with my brother for god knows how long. What type of whore goes around and f*cks two guys at the same time? You still doing him? Who else, Callie? Have a little dignity and let my brother go."

He went to continue, but stopped immediately. She had gone totally pale and was shaking badly, tears streaming down her face. "You're hurting me. _Please_ let go," she stammered. She looked scared of him.

Joe glanced down and realized how tightly he had been holding her arm. He released her, stunned, and looked in shock at his hand. And that is exactly why he didn't even see her raise her other hand and slap him, hard, across the face. He reeled back a moment, stung, but all the fight had left him. How had this escalated so quickly, again? WHAT had he done?

Callie was sobbing, something he had never seen her do- ever.

Callie sank to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself as she tried to control her breathing. She wanted to stay away from everyone forever. Why did everyone keep touching her? She had no control over her personal space and it was terrifying. Before… IT… had it been this way? She had never noticed. But now, it was all she ever noticed, hyper-aware of touch and proximity and how often that she felt so small and helpless in her own skin.

"Callie, I-" he started, feeling awful.

"Don't," she cut him off, finally meeting his eyes. Her lips were quivering. He sat down next to her, leaving plenty of room in between them. "I'm sorry."

She was crying and laughing at the same time. "God, I hate that word," she answered, voice trembling. "I've heard it so much lately it has no meaning."

"I've had too much to drink," he started again, knowing how lame it sounded.

"But you meant every word," she replied quietly, looking down at her skirt. "Know what's funny?"

"No. What?" he responded, starting to feel his emotions deaden. Who had he become, and why did Callie always bring it out?

"You call _me_ a b*tch, but _you're_ the one who always starts problems with me lately. You call me a...whore…" he noticed how she choked on the word, "but I'm not the one who cheated on the person I love. I didn't sleep with everyone who came across my path. You did. You did it to Iola and you're on the cusp of doing it with Vanessa. I feel it."

"Shut up," Joe mumbled, but his words lacked any power.

"You always try to shut me up," she went on, looking down. "Why? What are you afraid I'm going to say? The truth?"

Joe remained silent, but felt his heart beating hard, his own breathing uneven.

"Look at me," she said, raising her head. When he didn't respond, she almost shouted, "Look at me!"

He turned to her. The expression on her face said everything that he was feeling. "Why is it that when guys feel threatened, they always call women names? They always… refer to sex to try to shame women? I didn't think you were the type to do that. Your brother certainly isn't."

Joe, dejected, was shocked to see the pain in her eyes, to see her still trembling. There was something else he couldn't put his finger on.

"I am going to tell you this once," she said, her unsteady voice betraying her confident words. "I love your brother, but I don't know if I can do this anymore with you," she sobbed quietly. "I'm not a whore. I'm NOT. How dare you say that to me. God… I don't even know why I'm telling you this, because you won't believe me anyway. John is my FRIEND. I never…"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "Callie, I-"

"You have no right to say any of these things to me. You… you make me hate _myself_ because I actually DO give a damn what you think of me for some reason. And I have begged for _no one'_ s approval in my life. I don't know why I even care," she choked out. "Frank aside, I actually care about you."

Joe felt horrible: confused, ashamed, and guilty. Oh, he understood self-hatred. Yes, he did. He watched her in silence, unable to speak, knowing the wrong words would come.

He saw her grimace as she slid further away from him and lifted her arm."You hurt me," she went on, incredulous, as she rolled up her sleeve and stared at her forearm. She looked completely lost.

Joe felt the color drain from his face as he noticed the huge black and blue mark that had formed where he'd grabbed her. "Oh, God. Callie, I'm sorry," he repeated, again.

She stood up slowly, looking totally spent. "I tried," she whispered, and turned from him.

Joe stood next to her. He reached for her and she gasped. "Don't touch me!" she sobbed. "Please!"

He let go immediately but stepped in front of her. "Callie," he tried, one last time, tears finally spilling down his face. "Please listen to me. I'm begging you. If you walk away now, we can't go back. _Please_!"

"What?" she cried, softly. "You've broken me, Joe. I have nothing left. What could you possibly have to say to me?"

If she was surprised to see him cry, she didn't show it, for which he was immensely grateful. He looked down at her, and his heart hurt. "Give me ten minutes. Give US ten minutes. Then I will never bother you again if you don't want me to."

"What?" she mouthed again.

"I have never, ever laid a hand on a woman, and I swear to God, on my life, I never meant to hurt you. Please believe that," he begged.

She met his eyes, lips quivering slightly. "I DO know that," she replied at last. "But don't apologize to me to make yourself feel better or to avoid a confrontation with your brother."

"I'm not," he replied, earnestly, needing her to believe him. "I'm apologizing because it was wrong even if I didn't know I was doing it. And you can tell Frank if you want. I won't ask you to keep secrets from him."

"I guess I shouldn't have slapped you," she admitted after a minute, "but here's the difference. I WOULD do it again. You deserved it." She glared at him.

"I know," he answered in a shaky breath. "Yes, I did. I promise you I won't ever hurt you again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she replied, wringing her hands nervously and backing off.

"I will NEVER hurt you again," he repeated, deadly serious. "In fact, the opposite. I will protect you. I crossed a line, Callie."

"You crossed several," she retorted, still trembling. "Why would you protect a person you hate so much? You even told me you hate me."

He wiped away tears and sighed. "I don't hate you, Callie. I… I don't understand why you bring out such a strong reaction in me." He swallowed hard and looked at the sky, bright with stars, feeling completely vulnerable. "Callie, I think you scare me a little," he admitted, honestly.

"I _scare_ you? What?" she asked, hesitantly reaching for his arm. He looked down at her hand and met her eyes, deciding to be totally honest and inexplicably feeling totally sober.

"Like now. You touch me after I grabbed you. Why?"

"I don't understand," she admitted, gathering her strength.

"Callie, we go at it with each other. You're as hot-headed and impulsive as I am. I used to know what to expect from you, but now I don't, and that worries me. You're like a mirror to me. You reflect back the worst of me and the best of me. No one- NO ONE- does that. Not Frank, or Vanessa, or even Iola. No one makes me examine myself more than you, and sometimes- I don't like what I see." He almost choked on the words; the truth, which he now understood, was more bitter than he thought it would be.

That was it. Callie WAS his mirror. He hated in her what he hated in himself; he… he loved in her what he loved in himself. He sucked in his breath as the reality hit him. Love and hate were two sides of the same coin. While he could never hate Frank or Vanessa, he _could_ hate her. Because he loved her in a different way, some odd mix of friend, sister, confidante, that he couldn't explain. To see her as he did, he'd have to trust her. THAT was the issue, he suddenly realized. He was inexorably tied to her somehow, but lacked the trust in her and in himself to make it work. He'd never had a relationship with anyone like this, always walking a tightrope. He could fall either way.

"I get it," she answered weakly.

"Yeah, I KNOW you get it," he responded with a sigh.

"I DO get it," she emphasized quietly. "Because you do the same for me. I guess I just never thought about it like that."

"How do you explain...us?" he asked hesitantly. "Why do we always bring out the worst in each other?"

She was quiet for a few minutes before she spoke. "I like your mirror analogy," she answered at last. "But it's more like funhouse mirrors, I think. We reflect each other but we kind of distort each other, too. The house- maybe that's Frank, what keeps us together. But the mirrors don't always fit. And sometimes they reflect back good images that make us laugh; sometimes they're scary. But the way to know what's real and what isn't is to have a point of reference; a reality check. I … I think we do that for each other, good or bad."

He listened, rapt.

"Joe, I appreciate your honesty. I always have. But sometimes you are really harsh with your delivery of it, in a way you aren't with anyone else. So, in turn, I get defensive and go back at you with probably more venom than I actually mean to. And you don't always start it; I acknowledge that. We have a lot in common, and I think that's why we are both so close to Frank. Listen, I've changed a lot since I was a kid, and you have, too. We both know what it means to suffer now."

He looked at her curiously.

"Can't we just appreciate the fact that we might actually get along without all of this mistrust? What if we actually became allies, because this enemies thing is really draining. We don't have to fight for Frank anymore. He has room for both of us in his life." Her dark eyes met his light ones directly.

He spoke from the heart. "I used to resent you, because you took my brother from me, but I was a stupid kid and you were kind of a spoiled brat."

A small laugh escaped Callie's mouth, and he gave a tiny smile in return as he wiped his eyes.

"There's some truth to that," she acknowledged.

"I don't know how to express how I feel about you, and that's why you scare me. I mean, you're smart and funny and headstrong, but I guess I don't know you anymore. And that worries me, because my brother- he's completely in love with you- like, totally crazy in love with you-and I just want to trust that you won't hurt him before I… well, before I let my guard down, I guess."

Callie shook her head. "You're not driving us apart with your actions, you idiot. You're pulling us together. Unfortunately, though it's the last thing I would want, I could see it becoming us versus you. And that's asinine, because Frank loves you and would do anything for you. We have to get along because we love him enough to put him first. And you can fight me all you want on what I'm saying, but you know that if I acted like I used to with you and Iola, it would also drive you two together. Again, we 'get' each other like that. I know we do. And why- WHY- would I hurt your brother? Don't you think I know what I have with him? Joe, I LOVE him."

"I loved Iola," he whispered, having no idea where that came from.

Callie looked at him curiously. "Is that what this is about? Iola?" she asked. "What about her? Joe, I'm sorry. I loved Iola too- so much. But Frank and I are not you and Iola. We never were. Arguably…"

"What?" Joe asked when she stopped.

Callie sighed. "Arguably, Frank and I are what you and _Vanessa_ COULD be, if you could just get over yourself."

He froze as he stared at her intently. "You don't mince words," he managed.

"I don't, and I'm about to throw my unsolicited advice at you now. If we are going to to be legitimate friends, you have to get used to that from me, and I have to do the same for you. Your brother is my best friend, Joe. Let Vanessa be yours. Let her in totally, completely. Once I did that with your brother, and he with me, everything changed. What you and Iola had was an intense and spirited young kind of love. What Frank and I have is different. It's... it's steady, comforting, sure. And that doesn't mean that it's NOT the other things, but when you're with your best friend… well," she finished quietly, smiling softly, "it's everything. Frank and I want that for you and Vanessa, because we see the looks you give each other, how you've both changed for each other, how happy you make each other. You're just missing the final step- you need to stop worrying what will happen. Just live and love and give of yourself, as you do with every other aspect with your life. I promise you- your life will be all the sweeter."

Her words struck a chord with him. "You were right," he went on, wiping back the tears that had started again. "About Iola and me. I didn't deserve her. I was an awful boyfriend. I cheated on her. And I did go around with…"

"Stop," she said quietly. "Enough. Joe, you were a kid. Iola loved you, yes. You loved her, too. You were infuriating together, though. That's the truth. She was always complaining about you and trying to make you jealous, and you did the same to her. I know, because I've dated your brother since were were fifteen and she was my dear friend. If you didn't know this, Iola was every bit as immature and ridiculous as you were. And I'm not speaking ill of her, God rest her soul. SHE knew it. We'd laugh about it a lot."

"You did?" he asked, quietly, shocked.

"Sure," Callie replied with a small smile. "She thought she'd marry you, but I would always tell her that you'd burn out by the end of high school. And Joe? You would have."

He wasn't sure how to feel about that admission. Angry? Surprised? Accepting?

"Joe, I'm not saying this because Vanessa is my closest girlfriend, but because it's true. The two of you are really good together. She adores you. She can put you in your place and keep you grounded, but she can also make you so happy and bring out your best. And unlike Iola, Vanessa puts you first. Also unlike Iola, you do the same for Vanessa."

"Do you talk to Vanessa about me like this?" he questioned, afraid of the answer.

"Of course," she replied honestly. "But I can keep a confidence. What you tell me I don't tell Vanessa and what she tells me I don't tell you. But…" she met his eyes, speaking pointedly, "since I won't betray her, or you, I will ask you to open your eyes and be more aware of things you should already know. Let me leave it at that."

He got it. "I do love her," he replied in a hushed voice. "Ugh!" he sighed, frustrated.

"Wh- what?" she stammered, caught off guard.

"This is what I mean about you," he said at last. "I don't have these talks with anyone other than Frank- no one. And I don't know why I feel like I distrust you on one hand and, on the other, I feel like you are… I don't know…" he blushed. "That you COULD be…"

"Yes?" she asked, motioning with her hand for him to continue.

"One of my best friends," he concluded at last.

"Then let me be," she added, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I will not hurt your brother, I swear to you I won't. But our relationship can be separate from the one that the two of us have. You're kind of like my kid brother, too. You get me so mad, but … I care about you."

Joe managed to smile.

"But that's why you hurt me so much when you said what you did." She dropped her hand and wiped away the newly formed tears. "Joe, I don't even curse, and this vacation I've dropped more "F" bombs than I have in my life. I'm a good girl, Joe." She didn't know why she was justifying herself, but his words brought back her self -esteem issues and the brief flashes of that night. "I'm a good girl. I'm good. I-"

Joe reached out and pulled her into his arms, gently rubbing her neck. Still, she trembled. Her words were totally out of character as she sounded like a wounded child instead of the strong woman she'd been throughout their whole conversation.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he said in a low voice to her as he impulsively kissed her forehead. "I didn't mean what I called you. You're not the "b" word or the "w" word, and you don't deserve to EVER be cursed at or yelled at again. You _are_ good. Of course you are. I'm going to make you a promise, okay? I need you to listen."

She nodded against his shoulder as she held onto him for support. "You asked me to trust you, and I will. If you have my trust and my loyalty, Callie, you have it for life. Almost no one has it, but I will give it to you. Because you are honest with me and I have a strong suspicion that you and my brother will be together for a long time. Forget my brother for a minute. Forget Vanessa, too. This is between US. I'm trusting you not to hurt _me,_ and I promise I will never hurt _you_ when it comes to things that really matter. And next to my brother, I will be your biggest supporter and protector if you let me be. This is a one time offer and if either one of us breaks the deal, then it's done forever. But if we don't- you'll have a friend for life. So will I."

Finally, Callie pulled back. She reached out her hand, which he took. "Deal," they said together.

"This has been a heck of a night," she replied in a shaky voice. She looked at her watch. "The fireworks start in ten minutes. Let's go find our significant others, okay? And don't worry. This whole conversation… everything that happened tonight… it's just between us. You have my word."

Joe slung an arm around her shoulders for a moment. He believed her. "Thanks, Cal," he replied.

"Don't get too comfy. Our deal didn't include random alcoholic drinks being thrown under appropriate circumstances," she teased. "Come on," she finished, reaching for his hand.

He clasped her hand in his own. "I think we've had enough fireworks today," he said gently. "Let's go get Frank and Van," he went on. "And let's go back to the Inn. It's the Fourth of July. Let's have our own freedom from the past." He squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek.

Once inside, he smiled at her and asked her to dance, much to the shocked expressions on Frank and Vanessa's faces at the opposite end of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank ask Vanessa to dance and he nodded his approval warmly.

As the last song of the evening began to play, he slipped an arm around Callie's waist and held onto her hand, and, when she looked up at him shyly, he rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue to break the tension and made her laugh before hugging her tightly and then starting to sway to the music. Again, he was almost shocked by how, at times like this, he felt completely at ease with her. She felt like an old friend... a sister. It was a long overdue new beginning, and he knew instinctively that Callie felt the same.

If things could work out with Chet, the friend he thought he'd lost, and with Callie, his biggest enemy and now the person who could end up being one of his closest friends one day… then maybe, just maybe, he could make it right with Vanessa, too.

He smiled at the thought.


	20. Chapter 20

**Note:** _As always, those of you who leave feedback are much appreciated! Many thanks to those who have reviewed since the last chapter: Hero 76 (guess Callie isn't the only one to think of it!), Drumboy100 (thank you for the constructive suggestion), TinDog (You give the best reviews, which I cherish), iheartninjago2010 (so nice to see you back- thanks for the feedback), sm2003495 (you are always so supportive and kind- thank you), Robin's Egg (Thanks for the compliment and for leaving a review), BMSH (yes, ethos and logos aren't at the forefront here- LOL), EvergreenDreamweaver (Joe and Callie will certainly try to live up to their bargain), Erin Jordan (thank you- yes, Joe and Callie are much alike), Paulina Ann (you are always so amazing with reviews- Joe had better get that uniform dry-cleaned, huh?!), max 2013 (thanks always), and BeeBee18 (your reviews and enthusiasm always make me smile)._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 20

Frank glanced at his watch early the next morning as he waited for Chet Morton to arrive. As badly as he needed to get on the murder cases, he also had made a promise to Callie that he would look into what had happened to her yesterday. Truth be told, he was way overdue in helping the Williams family anyway.

He'd explained the dilemma to Biff and Chet as they'd waited to go to the Ball, and Chet had readily agreed to accompany him. Frank suppressed a small smile at the thought, knowing that Chet's enthusiastic response had probably been half because he really cared about Callie and half because Chet was perfectly fine avoiding any situation having to do with murder. A suddenly somber thought that Chet had every right to feel that way finagled itself into his mind.

Of course, that left Biff to accompany Joe to the scene of the latest murder and to help Joe follow up on the leads they had discussed last night. The look of horror on Joe's face and of self-satisfaction and pure mischief on Biff's at the thought of what might happen now still made Frank want to laugh.

Vanessa and Callie would remain at the Inn or close by, accompanied by an officer. While that resolution was satisfactory for the time being, he wished that the girls would have left with Chet and Biff and gone home. They were way too close to the danger now, with Callie having been hurt and terrified and Vanessa having been threatened via the call to Joe. When he had dared to suggest it to Callie as they had entered the Ball, though, she had scoffed at the suggestion that they go away, though he had a feeling it was more for Vanessa's sake than for hers. She had seen the effects of real danger up close. The thought tore at him again.

He walked across the room to where Callie was still sleeping and kneeled beside the bed, reaching over to lightly touch her hair. Her eyes fluttered open at the movement and she smiled at him. "Morning," she said as she fought a yawn and covered her mouth.

"Morning," he replied, leaning forward to kiss her softly. "I'm sorry that I had to wake you, baby," he said in a gentle voice, now sitting beside her as she lay on the pillows, smiling up at him. "But Chet will arrive any minute and I need you to know that I won't be here. You have an hour or so to get to Vanessa's room, and the officer will be by then."

"So serious," she teased him as she stretched.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "You need to be safe, Callie. Don't fool around with this. Not the time for it."

"It's kind of sexy when you're ordering me around," she continued, as though she hadn't heard him, and, despite himself, he chuckled.

"Just do it, okay? And I will have my phone on me at all times and more likely than not I'll be right at the Inn, anyway. I-"

"Yes, Commander," she replied with a slight salute, referring to his officer station from last night. "Command away."

Frank suppressed his smile now, knowing that Callie needed to vigilant, but she did look adorable. As he went to speak, he noticed a deep bruise on Callie's arm and was concerned at once. Normally he didn't miss these things, though it had been late and dark when they had returned from the Ball and they had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted.

"What, baby?" she asked, and then, seeming to sense what he was staring at, she quickly withdrew on her arm.

"You're hurt," he said, simply, trying not to express how angry he really was. "You didn't tell me how hard you were pushed the other day."

She looked startled, and then turned it almost immediately into a seductive smile as she raised her brows. "I guess you'll have to think of some way of making me feel better, then. Any ideas?" She winked.

He shook his head, exasperated. It was like dealing with his brother sometimes with her. Well, he corrected himself as he looked down at her, a much sexier version. Suddenly, he wasn't so eager to go. Without another word, he pulled her up and into his arms as she burst into giggles, and he covered her lips with his own. What had started as lighthearted flirting, within five minutes, had rapidly progressed to much more. As he was removing his shirt, there was a knock on the door.

"Nooooooo…." he moaned as he forced himself to stop. This was getting unbearable. He'd seen Callie for only eight days since school had let out and before this trip had started. But between her poisoning, his injury, and sheer exhaustion, they'd been unable to find nearly as much time as they wanted- as they needed- for intimacy.

"Shoulda been Joe," Callie muttered, breathing heavily and flushed as she clung to him. "He would have been an hour late."

Frank laughed and called out, "Hang on, Chet! Give me two minutes. Getting out of the bathroom!"

"TMI! Chet called back. "Hurry up! I need breakfast!"

"Damn. I should have told him I'd meet him after," he lamented, standing up painfully and tucking his shirt into his shorts. On second thought, maybe he'd leave it untucked for now. Better idea.

Callie stuck out her lower lip. "I'll miss you. Be careful."

Frank smiled and quickly sat down again, threading his fingers into her hair and pulling her to him for a deep, slow, satisfying final kiss, though he wasn't sure it was a good idea, as it left him unable to concentrate.

"I love you," he whispered as Chet pounded on the door again. "Be careful yourself. And I will be counting the minutes until I'm with you again and we can pick up right where we're leaving off." He kissed her neck and groaned again.

Reluctantly, he left her side and went to meet Chet, his lips still tingling and his arms missing her already.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm not even going to ask what took you so long," Chet quipped as he met Frank in the hallway.

"Good idea," Frank answered with a smile.

Chet shuddered. "I swear to God, you're turning more into your brother every day."

"Why? Because I enjoy spending some time with my beautiful girlfriend?" he asked, teasing Chet as they made their way to breakfast. Despite the events of the last few days and the fact that it was early, there were certainly enough people gathered in the room.

Chet looked sidelong at him. "I'd love to say that, but Joe and Vanessa seem a little off lately."

Frank nodded. "You noticed." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Hard not to," Chet replied. "Can we, uh, discuss it over breakfast, though?"

"If you'd like," Frank replied, simply, not quite sure how comfortable he was with the subject. "But I need to review the cases with you, too."

Chet waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever you need. By the way, I'm telling you now, I plan to enjoy the food this vacation and go back to the health food after. So I need you not to judge me or do one of your, 'It's fine for YOU, but not for me' comments."

"I do that?" Frank asked with a laugh as he grabbed some fruit and a cup of coffee. "Judgement free zone here, buddy. No worries."

Several minutes later, they were seated at a table in the dining room, Chet's plate piled high with every carb available. As Frank went to talk, Chet put down his milk and pointed at him. "A ha!" he exclaimed. "There it is! The brow going up, the little school marm looking down your nose."

Frank sighed as he looked at Chet, completely puzzled. "Or, maybe, you know, I was thinking about a case and what to tell you. But I'll try not to raise my eyebrow or look down ever again. Guilty conscience much?" he kidded.

Chet sighed. "A little," he admitted. "Sorry, pal."

"No need," Frank assured him.

"Joe and I had a little talk the other day," he said, out of the blue, and Frank just nodded in encouragement. "It was cool."

Frank tried not to smile. "Why was it _cool_? Not the best description I've ever heard."

Chet played with his donut before answering, breaking it into several pieces. "I told him that I don't blame him for Iola's death, and I don't," he went on, quietly.

Frank paid attention now. He and Chet had become a lot closer since Iola had died, and he knew a side to him that others didn't. While Joe had gone on a terrible, self-destructive, virtually suicidal spree for a long time after Iola died, Chet had done the opposite: gotten more serious with his life, buckled down and made plans, and became introspective. Both Joe and Chet had moved away from those extremes, Joe when he had met Vanessa and Chet when he had started college, but they'd both certainly changed. "Go on. I'm listening," Frank encouraged him.

Chet met Frank's eyes. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything," Frank replied, seriously.

"When Joe first met Vanessa, I didn't want it to work," he admitted, blushing. "I wanted to hate her. Even now, when I see them together, it's still a little weird, like she's Iola's replacement. Looking at her with Joe is looking at some weird parallel universe of what could have been, you know?" His voice was quiet.

"Chet," Frank replied, thoughtful, "I think that's normal. I also understand why your relationship with Joe is strained. He doesn't want it to be. That much I know. So he does what he always does when he can't deal with things: he pretends that they don't exist."

"It makes it easier. I do it, too." Chet looked down.

"The problem is that the issues don't go away, and the only way to deal with them is to talk through it," Frank answered. "See, that's what happening to Joe now," he went on, not waiting to betray Joe but needing someone who understood to talk it out with him. "He never dealt fully with his feelings over Iola, so he shut you out and he shut Vanessa out, too, though I don't think he realized he was doing it. And he really hates Callie," Frank added, suddenly losing his appetite. "Because whatever his problem is with her, I'm sure that's HIS issue that he's pushing onto her."

Chet sat back and played with his watch for a few minutes, seemingly letting Frank's words sink in. Frank felt himself blush. He shouldn't have revealed so much. Finally, Chet spoke.

"Joe doesn't hate Callie," Chet said at last. "Callie's different now. I don't know why- maybe being in California?- but she's changed. He wants her to like him."

"What?" Frank asked, flabbergasted. "No. She wants him to like _her_."

"Maybe," Chet acknowledged, "but Callie is- she's…" he sought for the right word, "grounded," he finally finished. "Joe needs that. She is the only person who knew Iola and Vanessa both and was close with them. She's dated you forever. If he can get her acceptance, it means that you, Iola, and Vanessa would accept him. I don't think he knows what to make of someone who has a really similar personality to his own, more subdued of course, but still, and who has her life together when he doesn't. He can't figure her out- like I said, she's not the same person anymore- and so he pushes her away. He pushes hard, though. He's brutal. And she goes back at him in ways that he used to understand, but he doesn't now."

Frank's face was red now. He would never have expected Chet to be so forthright and his accuracy about both Callie and Joe was startling.

Desperate to know Chet's perception of Callie in order to protect her, he asked, as casually as he could, "Why do you think Callie's different? I don't."

Chet gave a small smile. "Nothing bad. She's just matured a lot. Going away does that to a lot of people. She… I don't know… I guess she seems to have less time for nonsense. Don't worry, Frank. She's still feisty and fun. She just chooses her battles better; that's all I'm saying."

"Oh. Okay," he managed, glad that was all there was to it.

"I worry sometimes," Chet went on, contemplative. "I think we've all changed. Well, maybe not Vanessa- she's always been nice and steady, but we haven't known her all that long, and…." he laughed, "not Biff, the idiot. But the rest of us. I worry that change will divide us."

"It could make us stronger," Frank said in a low voice. "We've grown together."

"I hope so," Chet sighed. "Here's another thing you should know. I like Vanessa a lot now. I don't resent her at all. In fact, I'm grateful that she helped Joe so much. She's so different from Iola. She has this mix of responsibility and wildness that you and Callie have, too, but she's also… I don't know... vivacious and outgoing and carefree, like Joe. I have a good feeling about her. Frank, I want Joe's friendship back. But…"

"Yes?" Frank asked.

Chet looked at him with tears that had suddenly visited his eyes. "I need him to acknowledge that what I went through- what my family went through- what we have to live with for the rest of our lives, with no possible replacement for Iola- is as bad or worse than what he went through. And just because I didn't publicly self -destruct didn't mean that I felt one iota less pain than he did." He looked at Frank, finally, lip trembling as he struggled to control himself.

A moment later, Frank reached out slowly and covered Chet's hand with his own. "You're right," he whispered, blinking back tears of his own. "You are absolutely right."

Chet just nodded in gratitude. "Come on," he said gruffly after a few minutes, "let's go find these damned ghosts. I think they've stolen my appetite, which has mysteriously disappeared."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe parked at the front of the police station, where he was going to interview Kennedy Lane's boyfriend, the only person who was a kind-of eyewitness to the attack. Then, he wanted to follow up on the leads from Peter Stoback and/or go over all of the paperwork and try to think about what all of the murders had in common. There had to be something connecting them.

However, before would do anything, he was going to have to lay out the ground rules clearly for Biff, so he had arrived thirty minutes early, almost unheard of for him.

"Let's get a quick breakfast at the diner, and I need to go over this again with you so that you don't f*ck it up," Joe told him as they exited the car. "I do not need you to embarrass me," he emphasized. "If I have to call my father on this, I will kick your ass. Frank and I should be able to solve cases on our own without calling Big Poppa, got it?"

He started walking across the street.

"Since when have I ever embarrassed you?" Biff questioned, and, when Joe shot him a look of death, he raised his hands in protest. "Someone's testy this morning," he added as they made their way inside and were seated at last.

Joe faced Biff, hands crossed. As they ate breakfast, Joe reviewed the case, ending with, "this kid just lost his girlfriend, so don't be a wise ass. We just need basic facts. Frank and I are at a bit of a standstill."

"You're just missing the Hooper brainpower," Biff quipped easily.

Joe glared at him. "YOU are lacking it. It doesn't exist."

"Much like your manners," Biff retorted. Seeing Joe's puzzled expression, Biff continued."You didn't even ask about my date last night while you were having gunfights and all."

"Cause that's what you do at a Ball," Joe responded dryly. "Okay. Fine. How did your date go?"

"Terrific," Biff answered with a smirk. "She couldn't resist the divide and conquer line, and for one night only, the South did rise again."

Joe spit out his coffee and started laughing. "Oh, damn, Biff, it's too early for this," he managed, grabbing a napkin and wiping the table.

Biff was laughing, too. "Wait. Want me to try a line on our waitress? She's a dime, man. Dare me."

"Are we twelve?" Joe asked. Then, unable to help himself, as was almost always the case with Biff, he said, "Go ahead."

"If she says yes, you buy breakfast. If she says no, you buy breakfast. How does that sound?"

"Wh-?" Joe began. Then, resigned, figuring either way would be worth it just to watch this disaster, he agreed. "Guess I'm buying breakfast."

"Yeahhh," Biff smiled and nodded. "That's my boy. Call her over."

"What?" Joe asked. "This is YOUR line."

"Dude, it's the setup. Trust me."

"What the hell do you want me to say?" Joe asked.

"Nothing. Just call her," Biff repeated.

Shaking his head and stifling a laugh, Joe caught the waitress's attention and waved her over. She was a cute brunette, tall and thin, with a slightly pale complexion and a nice smile.

"Can I help you?" she asked Joe.

"Actually, I had my friend call you over cause I'm a little shy," Biff began, and Joe bit his lip.

"Oh," she giggled. "Then how may I help _you?_ "

"I was just thinking, are you the special for the day? Cause if you were printed on the menu, you would be FINE print." He winked at her.

Joe felt his face turn bright red and he covered his forehead with his hand.

To Joe's astonishment, she laughed. "Did you work hard on that one?" she asked him. "What's your name?"

"Biff," he replied. "And yours is… written right there on your breast- _chest_!" he corrected, as Joe slid into his seat further. "Ellen."

"Biff," she answered with an amused smile. "That's an interesting name."

"It is," Biff replied. He leaned in closer to her neck and inhaled deeply. "It rhymes with SNIFF. And WHIFF. And... STIFF."

Joe started coughing and reached for his water glass, crimson.

"You off early tonight, Ellen? See, before I came here today, I could recite the whole alphabet, but now- I can't get past "u" and you look like you could teach me a lot of things."

Joe felt tears of laughter in his eyes and could barely breathe as he tried to control himself.

"Well, I don't know…" she replied, uncertain.

"I'll meet you here, then. Come on. I could keep flirting now but it's much more fun to seduce you with my awkwardness." He wrote down his number. "And here's your TIP- call me."

Giggling, she nodded and turned around.

Five minutes later, Joe was catching his breath in the parking lot. "That was the best money I have ever spent!" he told Biff, still laughing. "Unbelievable. Truly. I bow to you."

"That's right, son. I schooled you today," Biff replied.

Joe continued to smile as they walked back to the station. Biff was the best medicine for anything. He was a jackass of incredible proportions, but he was the one person here in his life who literally asked nothing of him, listened with no expectation, and allowed him to not think. He knew it wasn't the real world, necessarily, but being with Biff actually allowed him to clear his mind, and it felt better.

"Thanks, man," he found himself saying to him, unexpectedly.

Biff just smiled.

As soon as they entered the station, the mood changed at once. Chief Cruz came up to them both. "Joe, we have a problem," he said at once. "We got another threatening message left on our machine, if you can believe that. This one is taunting the department."

Joe grew serious at once.

"And that's not all. It also said that unless you and Vanessa leave town immediately, that you're going to die."

Face pale, he nodded at Chief Cruz. There would be no more fooling around.

"Let's get started," he said, seriously, and Cruz nodded, ushering him and Biff into his office.

It was time to go on the offensive.


	21. Chapter 21

**Note:** _Many thanks to those of you who left a review on the last chapter, which was much appreciated and made me smile: Drumboy100, Red Hardy, EvergreenDreamweaver, sm2003495, hlahabibty, BeeBee18, max 2013, Paulina Ann, BMSH, ErinJordan, and TinDog. Feedback always makes a difference- thank you! Another pretty long chapter..._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 21

In Chief Cruz's office, Biff and Joe sat and listened as the Chief told them that he was going to play the recording. "Listen to this, and let me know if it's what you heard," he said, gravely.

In a moment, the recording came on. " _One of us has to stop the violence, and it's not you. Failing again. Tell Joe Hardy and Vanessa Bender to leave or they will die._ " As with the call that he had received, the quality was grainy, but there were other differences as well.

"I assume that's what you heard," Cruz said seriously. "Yes?"

Joe tried to remain calm, but inside he was furious… and scared. He saw Biff looking at him curiously and he turned back to Chief Cruz. "Yes, more or less," he stated. "Can I record that recording with my phone?" he asked. "I'd like to discuss this with my brother. Things are starting to make sense."

"You have an idea?" Cruz asked, surprised. "Because we sure as hell need a clue."

"The start of one," Joe replied, and he set his phone to record. When it was done, he turned to Chief Cruz. "Promise me that an officer is with Vanessa," he said, to which Cruz nodded. "Okay," Joe went on. "Is there any reason I need to interview Lane's boyfriend, or is the situation there status quo? Would you make him a suspect?"

"No," Cruz replied. "He's a sixteen year old kid. His story holds up. If you want to interview him, go ahead. If not, I'll tell him to be on standby."

Joe was about to dismiss the idea when something at the back of his mind started to prod at him. "You know what?" he began. "Let me see him for five minutes. Biff can wait here. It's quick."

"Suit yourself," Cruz noted, and ushered Joe into a room in which a very nervous looking teenager was waiting. After Cruz introduced Joe, he left them alone. The teen's parents were peering into the room through a glass window.

"Adam?" Joe asked, sitting across from him. The teenager looked distraught, pushing his long, sandy colored hair from his forehead and blinking back tears from his dark brown eyes. "My name is Joe Hardy, and I'm just going to ask you a few questions. They might be a little personal, but no one can hear what we say. I'm assisting the police with trying to catch Kennedy's killer, and no- we don't believe it's you. We want justice, though, and the sooner we can talk to you, the more quickly that can happen. Can you help me out?"

"I don't know what to tell you," Adam Halperin began, "but whatever you need."

"How long did you and Kennedy know each other?" Joe asked, knowing where he was going.

Surprised, Adam looked up. "I don't know. Like five or six months, I guess. We go to the high school here."

"Okay," Joe acknowledged. "And last night, you were where exactly again?"

Adam blushed. "Behind the tour center in a… kinda… darkish area out of the way. Facing the battlefield."

"How did you get there? What path did you take?" Joe asked.

"Uh… up through the town center," he began, and, with Joe's prompting, listed each street that he'd come across. Joe jotted down some notes as the kid talked.

"So you finally arrive- and why did you hide out in that abandoned area? Did you see anyone along the way, anyone who might look suspicious?"

Adam continued to blush. "There weren't too many people around, but some were in the distance, yeah. I didn't pay any attention, cause, you know…"

Joe raised his brows and Adam sighed. "Yeah, we were having sex. Don't lecture me about being too young," he added, defensively.

Thinking of his own history and knowing full well that he'd be the last person ever to lecture Adam, he suppressed a smile. "Adam, I don't really care about that."

"Is this relevant?" Adam asked.

"Actually, yeah- it is," Joe answered calmly. "So I heard you had a fight. What happened?"

Adam resigned himself to answering. "You're sure my parents can't hear?" he asked nervously.

"Yup," Joe answered simply.

"We finished up and she got pissed at me when she found out I didn't use protection."

Joe stared at him. "That's a pretty shitty thing to do to a girl," he said at last. When Adam went to defend himself, Joe cut him off. "So she got mad at you. Then what? What EXACTLY did she do? Was she loud? Quiet? Did you hit her?"

Adam nervously glanced at the window and paused, staring at Joe, uncertainly.

"Listen, I just need to know. Tell me the truth," Joe stated bluntly.

Adam finally answered. "She started yelling at me- like, real loud- as she was getting dressed. I kept telling her to shut up. I mean, people could hear and I was, like, naked." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I saw some people start to come up the hill and I freaked out. I got dressed and she still wouldn't be quiet, so I slapped her."

Joe took in the information silently. "And then?" he asked.

"I screamed back at her and she got up and started running away. I went after her about 15 minutes later… and... you know…" his voice trailed off.

Joe nodded, thinking. Yes… pieces were coming together. "Adam, you said that you saw people in the distance. How many?"

"I don't know," Adam responded. "It was getting dark, but it was those weirdos."

"Weirdos?" Joe questioned.

"Yeah. Those Civil War people. They were all over last night, dressed up."

"What color uniform? THINK, Adam. Confederate or Union?"

Adam looked at him blankly and Joe sighed. "Really? You live in Gettsyburg and you don't know the most basic fact of all? Blue or gray?" he restated, trying not to sigh.

"Gray. That's all I saw, man, I swear it. I think there was a… a… cape or something on at least one of them. That's all I know. I swear it."

Joe nodded, thanked Adam for the information, and left the room. He returned to Chief Cruz's office and relayed the information. "I need to talk to Frank and I'll be in touch this afternoon," he assured him. He left the office, Biff following close behind.

"So? Did he do it?" Biff asked, once they were alone in the car.

"No," Joe replied as he pulled away from the curb. "He's a low-life degenerate, but he didn't do it. I'm beginning to think I know who did, though," Joe went on. "Text Frank for me. Tell him that we'll all meet up around 2:00. I have some more work to do. Up for it?" he asked.

"I like playing Sherlock Holmes," he answered.

Joe rolled his eyes. "You'd be Watson, if you even qualified," he answered.

"I'd be what?" Biff asked.

"No- _who._ Watson!" Joe responded.

"Is it who or what, son?! Hahaha! Got ya!" Biff exclaimed.

"WOW," Joe replied. "Maybe I ought to drop you off now so I don't lose any more brain cells."

When Biff stopped laughing, he turned to Joe. "Okay, serious question. You looked freaked out when you heard that message. Why? The message to the cops or about you?" he asked.

Joe gripped the steering wheel more tightly. "Neither, though both were valuable."

"Then what?" Biff asked.

Joe was silent a moment before answering. "How did the caller know Vanessa's name?" he replied at last.

Biff stared at him a moment before nodding. "I'll help, bro. Don't worry. She'll be okay."

"She has to be," he answered quietly, and Biff nodded silently as they headed to the second stop of the day.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

With Charlie and Hank Williams behind them, Frank and Chet headed to the basement to check out what had transpired yesterday. They'd already spoken with both Sarah and Nancy, who described the same scenario that Callie had spoken of yesterday. Something wasn't sitting right with Frank, though he couldn't quite place his finger on it yet.

"Here you go," Charlie said kindly. "Feel free to look around for as long as you'd like."

As Chet began perusing the area with Hank, Frank turned to Charlie. "I'm very sorry about what you've been going through," he told him, sincerely.

Charlie sighed dejectedly. "So am I, Frank. But thank you."

"I found out a few things," Frank began, and he filled him in the cause of death of the woman from January, most notably that it was not murder or a ghost. He also told him about someone having sneaked up to the attic to fire out the window several days ago, and the availability of the poison which had sickened Callie and many others. "So I don't know what's going on, Charlie, but I do know this- it's not a ghost." He smiled.

Charlie gave a weak smile in return. "That I know, son, but no one else seems to. I don't know if I can do this too much longer."

"You're thinking of selling? Frank asked. "I thought you might be. Chief Cruz said that your land and property is worth a lot- millions, perhaps. It seems as if someone is trying to diminish the property value so that you'll sell it for less. That seems pretty clear cut. The question is who would do that? Do you have a list of people you could give me who have been trying to buy the land?"

"Sure," Charlie responded, sadly, "but it's a long list. It isn't about the money to me, Frank. I explained how this building has been in my family for generations. My wife and I built our family here. Hank and I have made a nice little family here, and it's been delightful to have young Sarah with us. She and her friends have a place to go, and we have a place to call home."

"I understand," Frank replied, sympathetically. "But that list will make a huge difference to the case."

"You _don'_ t understand," Charlie responded quietly. "It may be too late. Hank and even Sarah now think that it may be time. Sarah's a young kid, but she's scared that the place really is haunted. Hank wants nothing to do with people getting hurt or the place being seen as a spectacle. And all I can think about is what Cora would say- how I've let this happen to our home."

"Charlie, this isn't your fault," Frank assured him. "You didn't put the place on the ghost tour map or poison anyone or have people call out "ghost" when crowds are nearby." Something Frank had inadvertently said started to stick with him, and he made a mental note to review it later. "Charlie," he went on, "get me that list- please. Get me the name of the tours that go by here and that scaffolding company, if you would. And, if it's not too much trouble, get me the names of the people who were staying at the lodge the night of the poisoning AND the night that the scaffolding fell. I promise to examine all of these materials with my brother. The answer is in there somewhere."

"Okay, son. Thank you," he added kindly. "I wish I could pay you for looking into this for me."

"You already have," Frank replied, to ease Charlie's conscience. "You've provided excellent service and a wonderful historic Inn with free rooms to us and our friends. And the food- you were right. Cora was a wonderful cook to have developed these recipes." He watched as Charlie's mouth turned in a smile. "You know what? My girlfriend loves to cook, too. Maybe you could pick out two or three of Cora's secret special recipes and copy them for Callie? I give you my word she won't reproduce them, but she would LOVE that… and you'll get me in her good graces and have me fed well at the same time," he added with a wink.

Charlie looked pleased. "Well. That sounds all right by me. Any recipe in particular?"

"That sweet potato one was amazing," Frank suggested. "But whatever you're comfortable with. Geez-all you've done and those recipes is worth ten times any money you could have paid." He smiled.

Charlie returned the grin and pat Frank on the back. "You're a real nice kid," he said before he ascended the stairs.

Turning around, Frank saw Chet and Hank return empty- handed. "I didn't see anything," Hank said, "but then again, I don't know what I'm looking for."

"That's okay, Hank," Frank assured him. "Would you mind if Chet and I stayed a few more minutes?"

"Not at all," Hank replied. "I'll wait on the stairs for you so I can escort you up."

Thanking him, Frank turned and started looking around, mentally trying to picture the details that Callie had told him the other day.

"What are we looking for?" Chet asked him.

"I'm not sure, exactly. Maybe try to find the circuit breaker and I'll see if there are prints. Look for footprints and hiding spots and heating and cooling vents. Someone- actually, someones, if the girls are accurate, were down here. Look for evidence of it."

The boys remained for another 15 minutes. Frank had managed to get a few prints from the circuit breaker, though they were more than likely Charlie or Hank's, and would have Chief Cruz send out for information about them. He was about to leave when he spotted it. There was a set of footprints in a dark corner, approximately where Callie would have stood, though he found no others where the other girls had been.

"Hmm," Frank thought, speaking in a low voice to himself. "That's weird."

"Frank," Chet said, coming up next to him. "Does this mean anything?" He held up a gum wrapper which seemed out of place in the otherwise old basement.

Recognizing the brand immediately, Frank nodded. "Yes. It does. Great work."

As they made their way up the stairs, Frank's mind was whirling. What on earth did the gum wrapper mean? Was there a connection between what was happening here and the attack on Nellie Pabst? If so, what was it-and why? Or was it all a huge coincidence?

He had to speak to Joe… but he did have some extra time before they'd meet up...

Frank glanced again at the notes and lists given to him by Charlie and he turned to Chet.

"I'll meet you at your room with everyone at 2:00, okay?"

Chet nodded. "I'm going for lunch. But I assume you won't be joining me," he added with an exaggerated grin, making the color rush to Frank's cheeks.

"I'll probably go over the notes again," he mumbled as Chet laughed.

"Uh huh. Good luck with that. Duly _noted_ \- get it?"

"Yup," Frank responded, and waved goodbye, turning even brighter red when he heard Chet call out, "Say hi to Callie for me!"

 _He's turning more into Hooper every day_ , Frank thought as he started to climb the stairs to his room, refusing to let Chet sour his good mood.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When he'd touched base with Joe and realized that he'd have some time free in the early afternoon, he knew exactly how he was going to spend it, and he'd sent Callie a quick, suggestive text telling her to meet him back at their room as quickly as possible. He couldn't wait.

When he entered the room, he didn't see her, though.

"Frank?" He heard Callie call his name from the bathroom.

"It's me, baby. Hurry up!" he teased.

"Okay. Just give me a few minutes."

"All right," he called back, sighing.

Hyped up with anticipation and energy, he started pacing the room. He wanted her so badly, needing to show her how much he loved her, to embrace each other in the most passionate bond that they alone had shared with each other.

Idly, he picked up her cell phone which he happened to notice was on low battery and which he was about to charge for her when he accidentally hit "recent" calls with his thumb. As he plugged it in, his eyes grew wide as he recognized the numbers.

Since he'd left her this morning, she'd spoken to Johnny three times and her therapist twice. How she'd managed to do it away from Vanessa was a question for later. For now, he felt the smile fall from his face.

 _He knew it._ He'd known that she wasn't okay after what had happened in the basement yesterday. He'd just ignored it because it wasn't convenient to think about it, as it was too painful. Immediately, his mind flashed to the rest of the time since she'd told him about it. She'd stayed close to his side the entire Ball, getting very uncomfortable with the attention she was receiving and the crowds. Even when she'd been outside discussing who knew what with Joe, she'd returning looking drained. After the Ball, she'd fallen asleep quickly. Yet this morning, he knew without doubt that she was completely his, full of desire. She could change her feelings in an instant, and be completely sincere either way, and he had learned to be okay with that, as difficult as it sometimes could be. But she was getting better, had made remarkable progress, and he was grateful every day that she was fighting.

That's just how it was and how it had to be for now. And he had to be patient. This was an extremely fragile time for her and he had to let her work through it, giving him signals for when she was ready. He swallowed as his heart skipped a beat. How scary it must be for her to want to be intimate with him and be excited and eager almost all the time, but never knowing when she wouldn't be okay; what could trigger her and set her back. He had to be very careful to walk a fine line between showing her how much he desired her and yet not pressuring her.

"Hey," she said with a smile as she emerged from the bathroom, and he sucked in his breath. She was in one of his favorite dresses on her and her hair, which she always wore back, cascaded in loose waves down her back. She looked drop dead gorgeous.

"Hey," he replied with a warm smile as walked towards her and he studied her. Yes… there it was. The ever so slight movement back as he walked ahead. The one hand clutching her other wrist. The fact that she, despite getting dressed up for him, hadn't run into his arms.

She was scared, and that wasn't okay.

He stopped and held out his arms to her, instead, letting her come to him, which she did. He knew her well enough to detect the slightest stiffness in her body. Wrapping just one arm around her waist loosely, he stroked her hair and looked into her eyes.

"You look amazing," he told her in a low voice, watching as she blushed and bit her lip shyly.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I… I hoped you'd like it."

"Listen," he told her, "I hope you're not too disappointed, but I'm so distracted from this case that I don't know if… maybe this is the best time. Would you hate me if we waited until later? Maybe I'll be more in the right mindset then." He touched her cheek gently.

"I don't mind," she replied quickly, and the look of relief in her eyes almost broke him.

"Thanks, babe," he told her. "Why don't you get changed and we'll talk?"

"Okay," she answered, shyly again, and she returned to the bathroom, emerging not ten minutes later looking perfectly coiffed with her hair in a ponytail, and wearing a simple navy shirt and white shorts.

He pointed at a seat opposite him at the table in the room, fighting every urge he had to take her in his arms. He reached across the table and held her hand. "You still look every bit as amazing," he told her, and he saw her genuinely smile, "but I'd like to go over what we know and see what you think. I need your perspective and intellect here. If you wouldn't mind." He made it a point to praise her attributes other than physical beauty, always needing her to know that his love for her went way beyond that.

As they talked over the next ten minutes, he watched her closely. He saw her loosen up, breathe normally, and get happier, indicated by her increasing smiles and gentle caresses to his hand and forearm.

"Frank?" she said after a bit.

He looked at her as she stood and walked to him, sitting down on his lap and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Yes?" he replied as he loosely encircled her waist with one arm.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly. "Yesterday affected me more than I thought it had," she admitted, a blush coming to her cheeks again.

Frank nodded, letting her talk.

"I've been trying to work through it. It's so stupid," she went on, eyes teary as she rested her head against his. "I'm not there. What happened was not...IT. And I have the most wonderful, understanding, patient boyfriend in the world who I know would never hurt me. But… still…"

Frank kissed her cheek as she sat straight again.

"But still," he repeated, "you have been through unimaginable horror," he acknowledged, his own eyes teary. "And you take as much time as you need, knowing it is not your fault and that I support you fully. You just need to be honest with me. I do understand you and I do not take it personally if you say no. And you _can_ say no, you know, anytime. Look," he went on, getting his emotions in check, "I've told you this a thousand times and I'll tell you a thousand more: you are in control and I'll wait for you. Do I want you?" He looked in her eyes. "Of course I do. This week we _have_ managed a little time where I've been able to show you that." He smiled, and met her eyes, speaking tenderly. "I love you, Callie. Beyond sex, beyond words, beyond action, even. I love you," he repeated. "Believe I love you, know you love me. That should be enough."

It suddenly occurred to him that Callie and Joe were bonded again by this commonality: they both overcompensated to others for their lack of love for themselves. The thought hurt him deeply. If either one of them knew how much they were loved and allowed themselves to accept it, he couldn't even imagine the personal growth that they'd experience, the depth of love they'd have for themselves and others. God, he hoped he could help them and that they'd get there.

Somtimes he wanted to strangle them both for their beliefs. Sometimes he wanted to hit something- hard- and get out his frustrations, and he'd done that, too, plenty of times. Other moments, he wanted to break down and cry, but he couldn't do that, because they both needed him to be strong. Above all, he wanted to hold them both tightly and make them feel how much he loved them, and beg them to love themselves and to see their true beauty and worth. Sadly, that hadn't happened yet, though he knew if Callie and Joe would just really get to know each other, they would be the most unlikely of allies and help each other grow. One day...at least, he hoped so.

"How'd you know?" she asked, quietly.

"I saw your phone," he answered honestly. "I saw you'd called John and Dr. Santora."

"Oh," she answered. "Okay."

"Keep doing it," he encouraged her. "And keep talking to me, baby, because I just want to help you. And to love you. That's really my total agenda. I am so sorry, sweetheart, that I couldn't protect you. I'm trying." He offered her a weak smile.

"It's not your fault," she replied at last, hugging him tightly.

Returning the embrace, he gently stroked her hair. "It's not your fault, either," he told her again tentatively in a low voice, something he knew that she needed to hear but something that he feared would trigger her again. If only she truly could know that it wasn't her fault. Because no matter how many times she told him that she knew it, he didn't believe her for a second. He knew her heart too deeply.

He felt her suck in her breath and nod her head slowly as she nestled even more closely against him.

After several minutes, she removed her arms from around him and looked at her watch. Standing, she walked to the bed. "We need to go in forty-five minutes. Come here."

Frank walked over to her and she slid her arms around his neck and looked up at him. She was completely open and honest; he saw that. Without thinking, he slid his arms around her as well. "Yes?" he queried, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face.

This time, she tilted her face towards him and pulled him toward her, kissing him deeply. He returned the kiss passionately, full of desire, and soon enough love and lust were winning out easily against logic. He wanted her; it was all-consuming as he could barely control his eager touch. Still... he had to put her first...

"It's okay," he moaned, heart pounding as he forced himself to release her. "Like I said…"

But she reached for him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing him again and again, as she started to remove his shirt. "Cal," he managed, breathing heavily and starting to lose control as she pressed against him, "I told you that no is okay." He tried to hold back, almost weak with the effort.

In one movement, she removed her own shirt and looked right in his eyes. "I know," she whispered, breathing heavily. "I _love_ you. I _need_ you. And yes means yes. And now…" she repeated seductively as she kissed his neck, "means _absolutely_ now. Immediately. Right…"

Capturing her lips with his, he cut her off. "Right," he repeated, and they lost themselves in each other... in love.


	22. Chapter 22

**Note:** _Many thanks to those of you who left a review since the last chapter: Iheartninjago2010, TinDog, Drumboy100, Paulina Ann, Tinee Dancer, Orions Belte, max 2013, Nexttome, Erin Jordan, BMSH, sm2003495, and BeeBee18. I so appreciate you all taking the time to leave feedback; it makes such a difference. :) Hope you enjoy the skirmish in this chapter..._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 22

"Well, that was a freaking waste of time," Joe quipped to Biff at 1:15 as they pulled back into the Inn. They had just finished interviewing Matt Dunkley, via phone, who had purchased the expensive portrait, and Dave Evans, in person, who had purchased an early manuscript of _The Killer Angels,_ both from Stobak's shop. They had come up empty. Susan Brownmiller, who had purchased the large coffee book, seemed to have vanished out of existence.

"You got the pleasure of my company," Biff reminded him.

"Like I said, it was a freaking waste of time," Joe repeated with a smirk. "Ugh!" He slammed his hand into the steering wheel. "I hate dead ends."

"Then get a haircut, man," Biff replied with a smile.

Joe turned to him. "Really? Hilarious. Don't quit your day job. Oh, wait. You don't have one of those, either!"

Biff crossed his arms. "How about, Thanks, Biff, for keeping me company today? How about, I appreciate that you're wasting money on a vacation that was supposed to be FUN but ends up with a murder investigation? How about I appreciate your insights and willingness to support me when times are down?" he asked pointedly.

Joe stared at him, shocked. Biff NEVER got mad at him. "Oh," Joe stammered. "Uh… I mean… I…"

Biff burst out laughing. "Just kidding, bro. You _are_ being a whiny little b*tch, though, lately. Loosen the hell up."

Despite himself, Joe started laughing. "You're really a jackass," he replied with a smile.

"Hear from Vanessa?" Biff asked, and Joe relaxed slightly.

"Yeah. She's good. She was with Callie until an hour or so ago, and then Callie was meeting up with Frank to discuss what's going on at the Inn- I think. Van was going to meet Chet for lunch. An officer's there."

"Good about Vanessa," Biff replied, getting out of the car. "And good for Frank, too. I'm sure the meeting will be an _afternoon delight._ "

Joe gave Biff a disgusted look. "That's not something I ever want to envision," he said, leading Biff away from the Inn in the direction of a nearby restaurant. He felt strangely protective of Callie after their talk and it was true- he really DIDN'T need to picture what they were doing.

"Maybe they ARE meeting about the case. Callie is smart," he added for some reason.

"Callie is _hot_ ," Biff countered with a laugh, "and the only thing that they'll-"

"Stop! Do you _ever l_ et up?! God!" Joe exclaimed, exasperated. "Come on, moron. I'll buy you lunch one more time because you weren't a total waste of space today. That's it, man. You're on your own after this."

Biff's eyes widened as he sat down at a bar with Joe, who, he knew, had long ago procured fake IDs. "This place doesn't look like it serves filet mignon," he complained to Joe, who sighed.

"You've had a problem with cheese fries and burgers and beer since when?" Joe asked, as he placed orders for both of them.

A half hour later, Joe was feeling pretty buzzed after his third beer. He was frustrated by the lack of forward progress on the case and mortified by the thought of having to call his dad in to help. While he had a lot to discuss with his brother, much of it was a stretch. And he was bothered by that call- by the fact that the message mentioned Vanessa's name. Plus, he wanted desperately to make things right with her and he needed to let go of Iola-he knew that. But she was here with him, in every whisper of the wind, gravestone, butterfly that passed- and her presence was overwhelming. What did she want from him now? He dare not tell anyone about it, other than what he had said about it to Chet; they'd think he was crazy. But he did believe in ghosts and spirits and other worlds, something he'd only confided to Vanessa. Again, he felt angst and uncertainty; couldn't wrap his mind around his feelings.

He ordered another beer, glaring at Biff and daring him to say something. Biff, who'd only finished one, completely unlike him, just interrupted the order. He threw enough money on the bar to cover the meals and tips, and grabbed Joe's arm, half dragging him out of there.

"What the hell?" Joe shouted, shrugging him off.

"Exactly," Biff replied, matching Joe's tone. "Listen, pal, you can get as drunk as you want and I don't give a shit. But there's a freaking KILLER after you and your girlfriend, and, I don't know- you might wanna be in your right mind for that."

Joe said nothing, just stood defiantly.

"Joe, I don't know what's going on with you, man. You're a hot f*cking mess the last month! I'm being serious for a minute. You're my best friend- you're practically my brother. And I'm not lecturing you because God knows I've gotten myself into deep shit and some pretty awful messes over the years, and you've always just shut your mouth and had my back. I have _your_ back, man. I don't even know what's wrong, and I don't care- I just want you to know that I will listen and you're not alone. I love you, Joe. Straighten your dumb ass out! That's all I'm gonna say."

Joe knew Biff was right and he appreciated his honesty, no matter how he expressed himself. Biff DID have his back, and he really wouldn't lecture him. He had to stop the drinking, he knew that. He'd been able to stop almost entirely, minus a few frat parties and nights out, since he'd met Vanessa, so knowing he could do it wasn't an issue; having to have some other method to cope with his confusion and pain was. Still, he did have to get his shit together… and soon.

Embarrassed, he met Biff's eyes, again feeling himself sober up quickly. Biff had stopped him just in time. "Sorry," he muttered.

Biff sensed Joe's self- consciousness and squeezed his shoulder. "No need, man."

Joe managed a smile and gave Biff a quick hug. "No, man. My bad. You're right. Thank you."

Biff crossed his arms as they walked back to the Inn. "I was just pissed at you, you know," he remarked casually. "No one out-drinks me or makes me pay for a meal." He reached out and shoved Joe playfully as he jogged in front of him.

Joe snorted. Good old Biff.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As they arrived at the room, Biff opened the door and saw Vanessa and Chet inside. Callie and Frank had not yet arrived.

"Morton- come with me!" Biff called out, and, waving quickly to Joe, Chet got up and followed him. Joe couldn't even imagine what they'd be up to, but it was just as well. He and Frank often worked best alone.

"Hey baby," Joe said to Vanessa, crossing the room quickly and slipping his arms around her waist. "How's your day been so far?"

Vanessa forced a smile. "Boring," she admitted. "At least I had Callie for part of the morning. The officer here is nice, but I'd rather be with you."

Joe cupped her face with one hand and looked into her eyes. "I'd rather be with you every minute," he replied. "You are way, way sexier than Biff." He leaned in and kissed her slowly.

Vanessa took a deep breath and looked at him. "We need to talk," she said gently. "I texted Callie and told her to give us a half hour or so. I haven't heard back from her yet, but we have time."

Joe slowly pulled away and willed back the panic that had started to threaten him. "Now? We have an important case, babe-"

"I don't care," Vanessa retorted, and Joe sucked in his breath. He owed her this talk, but he didn't think he could do it at the moment.

"I… now…" he began, but she cut him off.

"Now," she repeated firmly. "And I can see that you've been drinking, so it should take the edge off. Good for you. I wish I had something like that, but I have to actually deal with my issues. Know why? Because I'm an adult, and that's what adults do."

Joe felt his face flush. He willed himself to stay calm, though he was completely unprepared for this conversation.

"Do you want to be with me?" Vanessa asked, eyes flashing, and he could barely ascertain if she was angry or hurt or both.

"Yes! Yes, of course I do," he replied, reaching for her, but she backed away.

"Really?" she questioned him. "Because you are sure as hell are not acting that way."

"Vanessa, it's not you-" he began, and the minute the words were out, he knew it had been a mistake.

"Shut your mouth if you're about to give me some lame line about 'it's not you, it's me'. We are in a relationship. It's not you or me. It should be US!" she almost shouted.

"Vanessa, please-" Joe tried to cut in.

"Please what?" Vanessa interrupted. "Joe," she went on, tears in her eyes, "I have given you everything that I have. For the past two and half years, I have given you my heart and soul- not to mention my body and mind- completely. And you have given me a lot- but not everything. And I deserve all of you, not some of you."

"Vanessa, I love you," he cut in, and he stood right in front of her, desperate. "I'm not perfect."

"Cut the crap," Vanessa exclaimed, tears running down her face. "I never asked you to be perfect. Who IS perfect, Joe? I have loved you unconditionally. I heard all the rumors about you when we started dating, learned all about Iola, but you know what? I didn't care. I TRUSTED you when you told me that you wanted me and loved me, and I fell in love with the man who I knew you were deep down: loving, kind, fun, smart, and wild. I love that wild side to you, Joe, and never- not once- did I try to tame it out of you, because then you wouldn't be you."

"So what, Vanessa?" Joe interrupted, tears of his own in his eyes. "So you put up with me. I thought you wanted to because you DID accept me. What did I do that was so wrong?!"

At the shocked look on her face, he quickly tried to explain. "I know I forgot our anniversary. I realized it the other day, and I am so sorry," he began. "And I know I've shut you out because I'm dealing with some things, and-"

"Stop!" Vanessa interjected. "Yes, you did forget! And I was hurt. But people make mistakes. This isn't about one day, Joe. This is about…" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "This is about my mom."

"What?!" Joe asked, completely confused.

"This is about the fact that you barely know her, because if you did, you'd know that her house- my house- is filled with blue and cream and white pottery pieces. This is about cell phones, because we don't have each other's passcodes. This is about apartments, because there is no reason, if you're really serious about me, that we should not be living together." She was sobbing now, and Joe was listening, shocked, pale.

"This is about FREAKING ICE CREAM. And knowing my favorite color and the name of my perfume. It's about understanding my… my dad…" she wiped tears away as her lips quivered, "and why he's not in the picture. It's about the fact that you wear those ugly keys every single damned day, which screams 'I will always love my old girlfriend more than I love you.'

Joe gasped, but felt the tears spill over as well, watching his whole world crumble and being unable to stop it.

"This is about telling me about your past, openly and honestly, not because I would judge you, but because I _wouldn't_! It's about sharing your pain as well as your pleasure, and your heart, good and bad. I was never, ever jealous of Callie and Frank. Until now! I always thought that we had what everyone else wanted: you were so passionate and loving with me and always so proud of me. We were the fun ones, the fly by the seat of your pants and live life to the fullest ones. We were young and crazy in love and fiercely loyal. But you know what? I can't say that anymore. I want you to love me - just a little- like Frank loves Callie. Because although I would never want to be them, and I don't, because you are not your brother and I am not Callie in any way- he adores her. He trusts her. I want that. God, Joe- I don't want to change you- I just want you to love me enough to let me in. Commit to me fully or let me go."

"What can I do to make this better?" Joe asked in a low voice, trying to wipe back tears unsuccessfully. "How can I show you that I love you so much? I DO love you. And I adore you. And I trust you. I don't care about Frank and Callie's relationship. I only know how I feel about you. I would never cheat on you."

"Yes, you would," Vanessa whispered. "You WOULD. I see it, because you want to run from me every time we get a little closer. What are you so afraid of? I'm not Iola, Joe. I respect your relationship with her, and I know how much you hurt when she died. But you have to love me for me- not how I am the same or different from Iola."

"I know," Joe managed, defeated. "You deserve that."

"Yes, I do," Vanessa responded, heartbroken. She walked towards him and he reached out for her and held her tightly against him as she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed quietly. "Why don't you love me enough?" she whimpered.

Joe felt his heart break and his voice was very tight when he spoke at last. "I love you more than anyone in the world," he barely managed. "You are my angel and you make every day a gift."

They continued to cling to each other.

"Joe," she whispered, "I can't just be your girl for _now_. I need a promise that I'm your future."

"I… I can't afford a ring," he choked out.

Vanessa pulled back slightly, eyes red, as she looked into his eyes."Oh, Joe. I don't want a ring. I want you to WANT a future with me, whatever that means. I want you to stop blocking me out. You weren't always this way; I know that." She gently stroked his hair. "I can't help you, baby, not because I don't want to, but because you won't let me. Something is stopping you: your past, fear of the future for some reason, Iola, maybe me… maybe I'm not what you want, even though you thought you did."

"Babe, NO," he said emphatically in a shaking voice."That's not it, I swear. You are too good for me. I'm going to hurt you," he managed, trying to breathe evenly. "I cannot protect you because my life- it's crazy and dangerous."

"I don't believe that," Vanessa replied. "You are the best person I have ever known. You are so loyal and selfless and good, Joe. You are GOOD, and every day you made me better. Right now, you're hurting me because you make me feel as if I'm really not good enough for you to let me in. You have always protected me, and I believe you always will. Except… I don't know if I believe in _always_ now."

"God, Van, you're killing me," he told her in a soft voice. He leaned forward and kissed her, pouring into his actions what his words could not convey, and Vanessa, in turn, melted into his kiss. After several minutes, he stopped, and again wrapped her in his arms.

"I am so sorry," he whispered in her ear. "Please, please forgive me and give me one more chance. Vanessa, I need help," he admitted in a broken voice. "And I don't want to hurt you while I get my act together."

Vanessa slowly backed away and nodded. "I WILL give you another chance, because you let me in… a little. Thank you for telling me you need help. But now- you actually have to let me help you. I don't want to lose you, babe. I can't imagine I could ever love anyone more. One more chance, Joe. It'll break my heart if you don't keep your word."

Joe, weak with relief, again pulled her to him and held her tightly. "I always keep my word. You know that. Van?"

"Yes?" she asked, exhausted and confused, but hopeful.

"You need to know that what I tell you won't always be easy to hear. I have made a lot of mistakes in my past and I am certain I will make them in my future. I'm ashamed of a lot of what I've done. I think you might just see me in a whole new light. Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," she replied emphatically. "A thousand times. Never be ashamed of your past. It made you who you are. And who you are is the love of my life. Please have the faith in yourself that I have in you."

"I love you," he repeated, pulling her to him for a deep kiss. "So much. I will try my best. I don't know how or where to start, but I know I have to start. Does that make sense?" he asked, with a little laugh.

"It's a start," she joked back, and laughed herself.

"I'm gonna meet Callie," she finally said. "I'll send down Frank. Thank you, babe. I love you."

Joe watched her go, overwhelmed and relieved and scared and hopeful all at once. He had been ripped open and thought he might bleed out. But the thing about wounds was that they usually healed and formed scars, and scars were just a reminder that he'd been through a war, and had somehow survived.


	23. Chapter 23

**Note:** _I am so appreciative for those of you who took the time to leave a review since the last chapter: TinDog, Orions Belte, DrumBoy100, Erin Jordan, EvergreenDreamweaver (Good luck at the bazaar!), BeeBee18, BMSH, sm2003495, hlahabibty, max 2013, and Paulina Ann. I am grateful for each and every review left._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 23

Frank knocked on the door to Chet and Biff's room, thinking of the past hour or so and smiling. It had been perfect, his only regret that their time had been limited. His days with Callie were so sporadic, and their time for intimacy even more so as they navigated through her complex sea of emotions. But physically reconnecting was important and truly special as they fell more deeply in love. He was really the luckiest man in the world.

Finally, Joe opened the door, and Frank tried to suppress his surprise as he noted Joe's red eyes and exhausted demeanor. "What happened?" he asked directly as he entered the room and took a seat. He bundled the pile of papers he had in his hands and placed them on the nearby dresser.

"Vanessa and I talked," Joe responded and plopped on the chair opposite his brother.

"And?" Frank asked, when no more details were forthcoming.

Joe took a deep breath. "And for some reason that is well beyond me, she still wants to be with me and give me a chance." He managed a small smile.

"Of course she does, Joe," Frank answered, giving Joe's hand a squeeze. "She loves you. Why don't you look happier about it?" he asked.

"I AM happy," he replied quietly, needing his brother's support. "It's just that I have so much to make up to her. Plus, even though she says she doesn't care about my past, I'm worried that she will if I share everything- and that's what she wants. Oh, and I still don't have an answer as to how to put Iola in my past."

Frank nodded and pat Joe's hand. "Joe, if I can give you one piece of advice- just one- I'd say to forgive yourself. You need to. Take things one day at a time. Maybe if you focus on the present then you'll handle things as they come instead of worrying about what might be or what was."

Joe took a shaky breath. "She said I should love her like you love Callie," he said in a small voice. "What the hell do I say to that?"

"Uh," Frank began, surprised, "I don't know. What the hell DID you say to that?"

Joe let out a little laugh. "Honestly? I told her basically that I don't give a crap about your relationship with Callie but that she was the most important person in my life." He blushed a little. "Of course, she also admitted that we are way more fun than you guys and that I'm exciting and we're passionate and basically that you guys are boring, but still- I didn't need the comparison."

Joe let out a breath of relief when Frank laughed instead of getting mad. "If Vanessa is the most important person in your life, and you really meant that when you said it, then I think you know the answer to what you should do in terms of working on your relationship," he said, gently, and Joe nodded.

"How do you do it?" Joe asked, meeting Frank's eyes. "I mean, really- how? You and Callie were apart for a long time; you're apart more than you're together now. Aren't you worried that things will change when you're together all the time? At least Vanessa and I have that now."

He didn't mean to offend Frank, though he realized Frank could see it that way. He just needed some advice.

Frank paused for a few minutes, contemplative. When he spoke at last, his voice was serious, though soothing. "Look, little brother. I agree with Vanessa: the two of you are nothing like the two of us. And that's okay. You and Vanessa are the life of the party; people are drawn to you. You have big personalities. And everyone loves you, alone and together."

Joe smiled and waited for his brother to continue.

"I'm no expert in relationships. I really don't know what I'm doing most of the time. But all that matters is that I love Callie, and I guess I can define that I put her first… always. And she does the same for me. That's really it." He shrugged, blushing a bit himself.

Joe bit his lip before talking. Frank was very, very private about his relationship with Callie; he always had been, even when they had broken up. So he was walking a fine line here getting so personal. "Can I ask you something?" he began tentatively.

Frank nodded. "Mmm hmm," he replied. "Sure." He waited to see where this was going.

"It's just… I mean, you and Callie seem so… like… innocent sometimes. I don't know … I mean, I assume… that she's the only girl you've been with…" he tripped over his words, feeling the color rise to his face, surpassed only by Frank's crimson cheeks, "and...like… do you ever wonder what else is out there? I guess what I'm asking is- how do you know for sure? You told me before that you just know, but what does it mean? And wouldn't you be nervous if you actually had a past, or Callie did, that you'd be ashamed about- that it might affect your relationship?"

Frank's eyes got wide and he let out a long breath, trying to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry," Joe cut in, and he squeezed Frank's shoulder. "It's none of my business. I don't mean to pry. I just don't know who to go for to advice. Biff?"

"No… it's okay," Frank answered finally and gave a small grin. "Please avoid Hooper. Just- it's a lot. I don't even know how to answer that."

"Forget it," Joe responded, standing up. "Let's get to the case. I have tons to discuss with you." He began to walk away when he felt Frank touch his am. He turned around.

"I DO have a past, Joe. So does Callie. You're assuming an awful lot." He met his eyes.

"Oh," Joe stammered.

"I will give you advice and listen, always, but some things I really am not comfortable with. I know your past- what you've chosen to share with me and what I personally witnessed. But Joe? No one's past matters. It's the person today who matters."

Joe hung onto every word.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not open and free with my life like you are and like Vanessa is. I don't feel comfortable discussing my relationship with Callie or even my past history with girls and… sex." He was still blushing and tripping over his words.

Joe saw how hard this was for Frank and was humbled as he listened to him.

"But the bigger question is-why does it matter? Why are you so hung up on what Vanessa will think of your past? You know what you should ask yourself? Do you care about hers?" Frank met his eyes.

"No," Joe responded, honestly.

"There's your answer. But she's right. You need to share at least what you think she should know, and you should expect the same from her, if you're in a committed relationship. That doesn't mean that you have the right to know any of it or that she does-it's just about trust. But-" he went on, thinking of his huge blow out with Callie the other day, the veracity of her words- "a person's past is in the past, obvious as it sounds. I really think that Van doesn't want or need to know every sordid detail. She just wants you to trust her enough to share whatever is blocking you from making a commitment to her. I think that's fair."

"That makes sense," Joe replied at last. Frank always knew just what to say to him, how to handle his wild temperament and mood swings as he figured himself out.

"So I guess the answer to your question is no," Frank concluded. "I don't believe that my past or Callie's would weaken us; but sharing it has helped. And no as well to wondering if anything else is out there. I made that mistake and it almost cost me everything. I also know damned well that you're not looking for anyone else because you _know t_ hat Vanessa is the one. Know how I know?" Frank asked directly.

"How?" Joe asked, rapt.

"Because you're having these discussions. Because you would do anything in the world to protect her. Because, simply- you love her more than you love yourself. And that's how I feel about Callie. So stop this nonsense and just accept it and stop being so worried about what will happen. Enjoy the present and the future will take care of itself."

Joe stared at his brother and almost gasped. Yes. Frank was right. He did love Vanessa more than himself; he had just never thought about it that way. "I can fix this!" he said to his brother, fighting tears, and wrapped Frank in a huge bear hug.

Frank started laughing as Joe released him. "I CAN do it!" he proclaimed again. "Because I do love her. And I'll figure out Iola, too- because if I can't worry about the future than I can't worry about the past. I'll do right by both of them. I will!" He couldn't stop smiling.

"Yes you will," Frank responded, eyes bright with happiness seeing Joe this exuberant. He'd missed that.

"You are the best brother ever," Joe told him, hugging him tightly again. "I love you, Frank. I'm sorry I'm such an idiot all the time. I'll grow up one day."

"No, you won't," Frank replied, rubbing his back. "I mean, you'll mature and figure things out, but Joe Hardy is and always will be a kid at heart. That's just you. Accept it."

"I will," Joe answered. He pulled back, beaming. "Any last words of advice? And they should be awesome because I'm in a damned good mood now!"

To his surprise, Frank looked thoughtful. "Yeah, actually," he said. "Talk to Chet about Iola. It'll help both of you. Make things right with Chet. Keep trying with Callie- _please_. And show Vanessa that you're back and you'll fight for her."

Joe smiled and patted Frank's cheek playfully. "Good idea. I know. I will. And Hell yeah!"

Frank laughed. "Now- onto the case?" he reminded Joe.

Joe smiled. "Absolutely."

With a newfound sense of determination, the brothers grabbed their notes as Biff and Chet returned with impeccable timing.

"Let's do this!" Joe said, and they began to discuss and plan.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Vanessa, you really DON'T want to do this!" Callie cautioned as her friend opened the window wide.

"Callie Shaw, come ON!" Vanessa sighed, exasperated. "We are on vacation. It is so freaking boring being stuck in this room on a gorgeous day like today."

Callie looked worriedly at the window. "I don't know," she said, anxious. "Vanessa, someone is threatening you and Joe. You have a police officer stationed at your door for a reason. This is not a good idea."

"Look," Vanessa replied, hands on her hips, "you used to be fun. Come ON!" she repeated, playfully throwing a pillow at Callie. "We're stuck in a first floor room. You and Frank have the third floor, which would have nixed the idea. It's meant to be."

"Interesting logic," Callie replied with a slightly puzzled tone.

"Cal," Vanessa continued, eyes wide with happiness, "look. The guys are working on the case now and this is our vacation. We used to sneak out all the time, and you know we covered for each other when you wanted to see Frank or I wanted to see Joe when we were younger."

"Okay," Callie responded, still not convinced.

Vanessa came up to her and crossed her arms. "Cal, I'm happy. I think Joe and I have a chance now- a really solid one. And you," she went on, eyeing Callie suspiciously, noting her slightly rumpled clothing, completely uncharacteristic of her, "were alone with your handsome man for a few hours and I'm sure you had some amazing sex!"

"Van!" Callie cut her off, her cheeks bright pink.

"You know you did. And I bet it was pretty hot, given the time constraints." She winked at Callie. "Girl, you know you're in an amazing mood, and I'm happy- we need to celebrate."

Callie remained blushing but couldn't help the smile the made its way to her face. Vanessa was right. It HAD been hot... _really_ hot. She was the luckiest woman in the world and she really loved him so much. Whenever she got scared about intimacy, and she did at times as the horrible memories assaulted her, Frank reminded her that it could also be the most precious, pleasurable, deepest connection that two people could share, and she craved his touch, his words, his eyes which conveyed such emotion in those hours spent alone. She felt emotional at her fortune. But, to Vanessa, she choked out her words as she blinked back her tears.

"You're really raunchy, you know that?" Callie managed at last.

Vanessa laughed uproariously. "Damn. Must have been mind-blowing!" she teased as she noted Callie's demeanor. She went on, "Are you going to be a fun or a stick in the mud? Puh-lease?!" Vanessa begged.

"Fine," Callie agreed, exasperated, unable to resist Vanessa's excitement. "I can't believe you're talking me into this…"

Vanessa reached over and hugged Callie before grabbing her hand and starting to climb out the window. "Let's go, girlfriend!" she encouraged, and Callie, resigned, followed.

"I have to admit. Maybe you were right," Callie said to Vanessa, stretching her sore limbs. On a whim, Vanessa had called ahead and rented two bikes, and they'd spent the past two hours enjoying the scenery and exploring. The sun had served to warm their already lifting spirits, and the exercise had been invigorating.

Now, they walked back towards the Inn before they could get in trouble, renewed and happy.

Vanessa reached into her bag and pulled out the two boxes of fudge that they had purchased on the way back. "I'm always right," she joked. "Now how are we going to give these to the guys if we can't explain where we got them?"

"I guess we may have to eat them ourselves," Callie replied, a little too innocently, and Vanessa laughed.

"Damn shame," Vanessa agreed. They reached the Inn and snuck around the back side. Tourists covered the lawn, playing games and picnicking, and the women had to be careful to avoid drawing attention to themselves as they opened the window back into Vanessa's room and crawled inside.

Once they made it back in, they met each other's eyes and laughed, high-fiving each other. "We did it, Cal!" Vanessa exclaimed. "I love being bad."

"Yeah, it's fun," Callie admitted, leaning back against the open window.

Vanessa eyed her suspiciously. "I swear, you have a bad-ass side to you. You always have. So does Frank. Joe and I will keep working on you to get you to the dark side."

Before Callie could respond, however, she felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder and immediately she felt dizzy and her legs start to give way as she began to collapse.

It took Vanessa a few seconds to process that something was wrong. "Callie?!" she cried as she raced to her friend.

The minute that she grabbed Callie, she gasped as she saw someone jump through the window. Before she could even scream, she felt a sharp object piece through her shirt into her side. It took her a second to realize that she'd been stabbed.

And then another second to feel the knife slicing through her again.

And again.

And then nothing at all.


	24. Chapter 24

**Note:** _Thank you to those who have left a review since the last chapter_ : _Orions Belte, Hero 76, EvergreenDreamweaver,_ _TinDog, Tinee Dancer, Erin Jordan, BMSH, max2013, sm2003495, and Paulina Ann. To those of you who have taken the time to be so supportive, either in reviews or PM's, I am very grateful._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 24

Joe sighed as he started looking at paperwork, his least favorite part of the job, before he gave up and handed the paperwork to his friends. Grudgingly, Chet and Biff agreed to look for names that might stand out, anything that seemed amiss, while he and Frank started talking.

"You owe me a beer for this," Biff grumbled, and Frank raised his brow.

"See?" Chet joked. "There you go again! That damned brow!"

" _Root_ beer, of course, Joe," Biff followed up as he smiled sweetly at Frank. He chuckled as Frank shook his head. No matter how much Frank tried to convey the straight and narrow, righteous path when dealing with Joe, he knew- they _all_ knew- that Frank could kick back and party and have fun with the best of them. Maybe not with the same frequency at all, but certainly with the same intensity. Yeah, Frank Hardy was okay.

"Just read the papers, Biff," Frank replied. "And shut up about the brow before I look down my school marm nose at you," he told Chet, who laughed. "Right now, we need to start with the murder cases. Joe, talk to me. What''s your thought process?"

"Asking Joe to think?" Biff snickered, and Joe was about to retort when Frank cut in.

"Knock it off! Biff…" he warned.

Biff held up a hand and stood up, plopping on one of the beds. "I'll stay here and mind my own damn business," he grumbled, to which chorus of "Good!" met him, and he sighed as he began to work on his task. Chet was taking his job seriously.

Joe turned to Frank. "Let's start here. You know I told you about the threat to me and Van that I received?" he asked Frank, who nodded. "Well, I remember thinking that I couldn't really tell if it was a man or woman's voice, because that, and the quality of the recording, was very poor. Chief Cruz verified that the number was from a throwaway phone, so there's no way to track it. We knew that would be the case."

"Okay. That's going nowhere," Frank agreed. "But didn't you say that you heard a new recording? Can I listen to it?"

"Absolutely," Joe agreed. Taking out his phone, he played it for his brother. " _One of us has to stop the violence, and it's not you. Failing again. Tell Joe Hardy and Vanessa Bender to leave or they will die._ "

"Yeah, that's not comforting," Frank commented. "I also see what you mean about that recording. There's something off about the quality. We should look into that."

"I agree," Joe confirmed. "But there's more. Why was Vanessa referred to as my girlfriend the first time I received the call, and then she was mentioned by name? That bothers me. Because this has to indicate that someone knows of us personally, and that means that the person trying to kill us HAS to be related to what Vanessa and I saw at the Pabsts, right? I mean, I was almost killed twice. Why? Someone doesn't want me or Van talking about what we saw- or they think we saw."

"Hmmm," Frank murmured. "Yeah, that makes sense. Keep going."

"There are a lot of things to think about," Joe continued, encouraged by Frank's support. "For some weird reason, the voice sounded different, too, but I can't compare them since I have no initial recording. I know it makes no sense; it has to be the same. It just bothers me."

"Fair enough," Frank agreed. He sat forward. "I know what you're going to say," he began. "The message makes no sense, either. Yeah… I see it," Frank went on, thoughtfully, crossing his hands under his chin. "Who's failing- the cops? And why would someone want to STOP the violence if they're the ones causing it?"

"Exactly!" Joe concurred, starting to get excited as the pieces began to fit together. "So then I started thinking about the pattern. It's freaking crazy, right? Stabbing with a sword, gunshot, another stabbing attempt, a beating with a blunt object- none of it fits. And the victims? A woman in her thirties who was new to town; a young prostitute not from here; a woman in her early forties, who was a longtime resident, and a teenager, another resident. Again, nothing in common. You can't even eliminate the oddball crime, because they're all unique. Except for what Van and I saw… because it didn't end in murder."

"We need to focus on that crime, then," Frank agreed. "Re-interview everyone. Something there is important. Also… all of the crimes involve women."

"Correct!" Joe agreed, and stood up, pacing as Frank sat back thoughtfully. By now, Biff and Chet were looking up, interested in how their detective friends worked through cases.

"And all of the crimes were violent. I mean, obviously, murder is never pretty, but they all involve violence against women," Joe went on. "Case one- that's the weird one, because Maggie Taylor had no violence directed against her that I can see prior to her murder- that's what's bothering me. We need to really look through these records from Stobak's shop, because a major clue has to be buried in there somewhere."

"I see where you're going," Frank replied evenly. "In the second case, Jen Knightly was being attacked by the pimp, and her murderer oddly interrupted it. There was a scream from OUTSIDE, according to Munoz, so someone was watching. And with the Pabsts, again, you and Van interrupted an attack on a woman, and I know you saw something else that you can't recall."

"I interviewed the kid from the murder from last night. He said he and his girlfriend had just had sex and they started fighting loudly; that people overheard them. He hit her, the dirtbag," Joe added. "So all of the cases center around violence towards women… except that first one."

"So that's where we start," Frank agreed.

"Plus, you need to look at strange… things," Joe added. "If whoever did this wants to silence Vanessa and I, then we have some leads there. We have the left handed Civil War glove. We were shot at by a Civil War gun. I was almost run over by a buggy and again- a Civil War gun was involved. The last murder, the kid told me that he saw several people in Confederate uniforms. Archie and Nellie are re-enactors - on the Confederate side. They told that to us when we visited them in the hospital. The guy who chased me ducked into a building of Confederate re-enactors. The people at many of the local shops dress up. There has to be a connection to that- obviously."

"So we go back to Stobak's shop," Frank began, and Joe groaned.

"What?" Frank asked, puzzled.

"I'd really rather not, if we could avoid it," he said. "The guy's nice enough, but he's a pseudo-detective." He went on to fill everyone in about the detailed lists, including the bathroom breaks, in such a colorful way that the room erupted in laughter several times.

"So maybe all we need is in that list Chet is looking at," Frank said.

"Well, Biff and I looked at the two big purchases of the day, and they checked out. I looked at the painting and initially thought, "battle," which could be important- but it wasn't. The other guy- his name was Evans- purchased a book called _The Killer Angels.*_ Suspicious, except it's not. It's a modern book about the Civil War and the title was coincidental. A big coincidence, given that we may be dealing with some sort of moral vigilante killer, but still a coincidence."

"What about this other purchase?" Chet asked from the side of the room. "It says a large coffee book was called _Assault on Innocence_. That's weird. A woman named Susan Brownmiller* bought it. Did you look into that?"

A strange look passed over Frank's face.

"I did," Joe replied, "and there's no woman by that name I can find. I know she was blonde and had been in several times that day checking out the book before she bought it. Pete said the whole thing was "weird." But she paid in cash and gave a phony address, and there's no way to track her." Joe looked at his brother. "You okay?"

Frank looked up. "Yeah," he replied slowly. "That name seems familiar for some reason." He shrugged. "I have to think about it."

"You've heard the name?"Joe asked, surprised.

"I … I think so. Somewhere. Why?"

"I was just thinking. If the address given was a fake, but it's a real place, wouldn't a local know about that? Maybe the name is local, too?" Joe queried.

"That is an excellent point," Frank agreed.

"Uh…" Biff cut in. "I have a question."

"That's unusual," Joe joked.

"No, seriously. You told me that the victims didn't seem to have hesitation marks, right? And that the impact of the wounds was pretty strong? Plus, the attacker was probably right handed. Wouldn't all that stuff - I mean, minus the right hand thing- mean the attacker was a guy?"

"Good job, Watson," Joe replied, and Biff shook his head and smiled.

"Yeah, probably," Frank agreed. "Which then begs the question- why do we even care about this customer who probably doesn't know anything anyway?"

"Maybe she saw something," Joe answered. "Plus, with the vanishing and name of the book, we should look anyway. IF we can find her."

Before they could converse any longer, there was a pounding on the door. Startled, the boys jumped from their seats, with Joe arriving first.

A police officer stood at their door. "Joe Hardy? Frank Hardy?" he asked. Charlie Williams, looking absolutely distraught, stood behind him.

"That's us," Frank answered behind us.

"Come quickly," he beckoned them. "Your girlfriends have been attacked and an ambulance is on the way. It's very serious."

The brothers looks at each other in horror.

Joe raced through the door of his room with Frank, Biff, and Chet close at his heels. Medics were surrounding Vanessa, who was on a gurney ready to be transported to the hospital.

"What happened?" Joe cried, clasping her hand. It was cold and she was deathly pale, surrounded by blankets. He could see the blood all over. He felt Biff behind him, trying to hold him back as an oxygen mask was placed over her face.

"Officer Tyson heard scuffling inside the room and some yelling; a scream. He ran into the room and saw someone jumping out the window, and saw Vanessa covered in blood and Callie out cold. He called 9-1-1 immediately and then we contacted you," an EMT told him as he began moving out the door to the waiting ambulance.

"She was stabbed?!" Joe exclaimed, in shock.

"We need to go- now," the medic insisted.

"I'm going with her in the ambulance," Joe responded, hardly processing the scene. In the background, he heard Biff say something, saw Chet out of the corner of his eye. Where was Callie? Frank?

He couldn't think. All he could see was Vanessa's ashen face, and he would not leave her.

More important, she could not leave him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank rushed into the room and felt his stomach churn at the pool of blood on the floor. Vanessa was being taken to the hospital and Joe looked like he was in shock. He watched as Biff followed Joe and heard Chet say something about getting the car and meeting him out front.

Callie- where was she?! He couldn't breathe.

Finally, he saw her in the adjoining room, a medic beside her. She looked terrified. The minute he met her eyes, he ran into the room and sat beside her.

"Can I...?" he asked the medic in a panic, and the medic nodded.

He wrapped his arms around her, felt her shaking as she clung to him. "Oh my god, baby. What happened?!" he asked.

She pulled back slightly, still gripping his hand, and he listened as she half-sobbed, half- choked out the events of the whole afternoon, ending in the last thing that she knew. She'd been brought back to consciousness by the medics. "Vanessa…" she asked, eyes glassy and speech slurred. "Is…"

"I don't know," he replied, smoothing back her hair. "Try to breathe."

The medic interrupted. "I've been trying to get her to get checked out, but she's refusing. We took a look at her shoulder, and it looks as if she was hit with some sort of tranquilizer dart and she really should get it looked at."

"I'm fine," Callie managed and tried to stand, but almost collapsed as the medic grabbed her tightly.

Frank saw the look of panic in her eyes and immediately stood and helped her away from the medic. She sat next to him, arms around his waist, head on his shoulder as he held her close… but not so firmly so that she couldn't move. "I'll take her," Frank assured the medic.

"No," Callie managed. "Gotta get to Vanessa."

The medic stood. "I have to get back to the hospital. She really should be looked at. Her blood pressure is up and she's dizzy and unsteady. Her speech is a little off as well." He looked at Frank. "It's up to you, but whatever that dart packed was strong enough to knock her out immediately. She's petite and it's going to affect her more strongly than it would most others. Good luck."

As soon as he left, Callie unsteadily tried to stand, shaking. She met Frank's eyes and slurred, "I'm going to the hospital now. Seeing Van. You can't stop me." She virtually swayed trying to regain her balance.

Frank knew he couldn't argue with her, realizing that he that he needed to get to Joe as quickly as possible, and he was very worried for Vanessa. "I'm going to carry you to the car, okay? It's the quickest way."

She nodded, still not completely aware of everything. He stood by her, and picked her up easily as she barely managed to slip her arms around his neck, and he raced to the car. He could not let his emotions get to him now. Slipping into goal mode, he helped a still trembling Callie into the passenger seat, buckled her in, and began to drive, the only reminder of what he had almost lost the gentlest touch of her hand on his knee.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Almost and hour and a half later, there was still no news of Vanessa's condition from the doctor. Joe felt the panic rise in his chest and found it suddenly hard to breathe. He needed to help her, but he could literally do nothing. The hospital was cold and lifeless, as all hospitals were, and he felt himself descending into numbness, the pain so deep he almost couldn't feel at all.

How had this happened? If he lost her, he'd die, himself. All the time wasted lately, all the hurt and confusion. She had slipped away from him, and he was just starting to pull her back, when this happened. No. He couldn't think the worst.

Frank was with Chet and Biff grabbing coffees for the infinitely long night ahead. Callie sat in the opposite corner of the room with him, very pale, as she closed her eyes and rested, waiting for news on Vanessa's condition.

Frank had filled him in on what Callie had reported and Joe had spoken to the officer on duty, himself. Why on Earth would the girls have snuck out? It was so stupid. There was a very real threat, and now Vanessa had paid the price.

He looked at Callie again. He wanted to yell at her, to shake her for not having texted him or Frank about Vanessa's plan to sneak out. He wanted to hate her for not being the one who was hurt so badly. He wanted to feel anger and rage and to lash out and hurt something.

Then he thought of what she had been through as well. He thought of how scared she must have been, how weak and shaky she looked still. And then he thought of their intense talk, the promise that he had made to her. He did not break promises.

Suddenly, when he looked at her, he only felt...compassion.

Mechanically, he stood up and walked to her, sitting down beside her, and placed a hand on her arm.

She jumped awake at once, gasping, and he snapped back to the moment. "It's me," he told her. "Calm down."

Her hand was over her chest as she tried to get her bearings, and then Callie looked up at him, concern etched on her wan face. "Have you heard anything?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"No," he replied, awkwardly. "I hate waiting."

"I know you do," she replied. Then, he saw her eyes fill with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It's all my fault." She looked down and her breathing was uneven.

"No, it's not," he replied, weakly. "Vanessa gets these crazy ideas in her head," he went on, managing the tiniest of laughs as he fought tears. "I bet you two had fun."

"We did," Callie sobbed quietly. "Joe, I wish it were me."

"No," he replied firmly, and he reached for her face and gently turned her head to his. "Stop that. There is a madman on the loose and he's after me; after Vanessa. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I… failed her…I knew I would..." he choked out.

Callie shook her head and wiped back tears. "You had nothing to do with this."

She sat next to him, and hesitantly took his hand from her face and held it, meeting his eyes.

"Talk to me," she said softly, gently squeezing his hand and trying to compose herself. "I don't know if I can help you, but I want to try."

Joe unexpectedly and startlingly felt tears slip from his eyes, his emotions finally spilling out from wherever they'd been buried. He was scared to death about Vanessa, guilty as hell, and wound tightly, feeling like he would burst any minute.

He wasn't totally ashamed to cry. Maybe it was because she'd already seen him cry; maybe it was their talk; maybe it was because she was just there. But he needed someone to share in his sorrow, and deep down he hoped that she could.

He looked down at their hands. "I'm scared, Callie."

"I know. I am, too," she said softly.

"I don't know what else to do," he went on, voice unsteady. "I keep thinking what she could be going through now, what could be happening, how scared she must have been." He felt his lips quivering and willed them to stop.

He didn't know what to expect. Words were of little comfort right now. Everyone was trying to support him, telling him things would be okay and that he needed to remain calm. He appreciated their trying, but the words were hollow.

"You're forgetting something important, Joe," Callie said after a few minutes of silence, in which she just held his hand.

He met her eyes as she spoke. "Vanessa is tough. I know you'd like to think that you can just race in and save her like a white knight, but you can't. You can, though, give her credit. She's strong and willful and she… she loves her life, and she loves you. You're what might just pull her through this."

He had no idea how to react to those words, as they were so vastly different from everyone else's.

"I let her down," he whispered. "I couldn't protect her like I…"

"Stop," Callie admonished him gently. "Iola is not Vanessa. Iola is dead, Joe, and Vanessa is not."

"But…"

"No," Callie repeated. "Joe," she looked down, and he could tell that she was choosing her words carefully. "You are the only one who blames yourself for Iola's death. No one else does. And you'll be the only one who blames yourself for Vanessa, no matter what happens. I want to blame myself, too. I get it. But it's an evil person who did this- not you. Not me."

She looked up again and met his eyes. "You do not need to be the savior of the world. People get hurt and sick and die and have all sorts of terrible things happen to them, and you're not some superhero who can swoop in and save the day. You're also not anyone's keeper who can build a wall around the people you love and protect them. You are HUMAN."

"No," he sputtered. "You're wrong."

"I'm not," she said, releasing his hand and reaching out to gently stroke his cheek. "Frank is exactly the same way; he just hides it better than you. He is not now and will never be responsible for my choices and what happens to me. But he is still my...hero...I guess I would say. See, that's what you don't understand. He's my hero because he lets me be me, regardless of the risk. And he's my hero because he will be there to catch me when I fall and to encourage me to follow my own mind, even when he disagrees. Above all, he is the great love of my life simply because he loves me for who I am, with no strings attached. Joe, you are Vanessa's hero, too, for all of the exact same reasons that Frank is mine. And when I was… IF I was..." she corrected quickly, realizing her error, "in a life or death situation, I know that getting back to Frank would be my motivation to live." She blinked back tears.

Joe buried his face in his hands and sobbed quietly, the weight of her words, the panic he felt over Vanessa's safety, his own insecurities fighting with each other to gain control of him. He was completely surprised when he felt Callie wrap her arms around him and gently rub his back in comfort, just as Frank would have done, though he knew that she was crying as well.

"You don't have time to doubt yourself anymore, honey," she said in a hushed voice. "No one doubts you except for you. Channel all that hatred and fear and insecurity that you're feeling for yourself right now into determination and focus, and concentrate on how much you love Vanessa- and I know you do- and it'll be okay. I know it will."

After a few moments, Joe sat up and took a shaky breath, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. She was right, and he felt a renewed sense of hope and faith. It was as if his center of thinking had been knocked off its comfortable position and re-arranged. Somehow, now, it made more sense.

He took a moment to look into her eyes and he managed a small, sad smile. He'd been completely vulnerable and open with her, and she had not let him down. Suddenly, it hit him that maybe Vanessa could accept him as he was as well; maybe she had all along. Maybe it was _he_ who had been unable to accept love. And maybe, above all, it was time to change that.

 _God, please let her live so I can tell her._

"Thank you," he managed in a small voice. There was so much more to say, but the words wouldn't come.

"You're welcome," she replied with a weak smile.

Still incredibly nervous, he slipped an arm around her and hugged her close in comfort as she leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, drained. He knew that she was still sore from the dart, and that her head must be pounding as she fought exhaustion. She'd been unsteady on her feet since they'd been there. But she didn't complain at all. He was starting to see that maybe Vanessa wasn't the only tough one around.

Tightening his arm around her, he closed his eyes as well and said a prayer for Vanessa's recovery. And then he spoke silently to Iola and asked her to help him find happiness again, to give him an opportunity to love that he would get right this time.

He just needed one more chance.


	25. Chapter 25

**Note:** _I am always so appreciative for those reading and following the story. Special thanks to the following people for their reviews since the last chapter, which made me smile: Red Hardy, Tin Dog, Paulina Ann, EvergreenDreamweaver, Hero 76, hlahabibty, BeeBee18, max2013, sm2003495, Guest, and BMSH. :)_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 25

Frank hurried back to the waiting room, having walked out to his car to get a sweatshirt, and having insisted to Biff and Chet that they return immediately back to the Inn. He needed them to continue to try to get in touch with Andrea, Vanessa's mother, who was in Seattle on business. Hopefully, they'd have a good update to report instead of this unsettling waiting. He also needed both of them to speak with Charlie and calm him, and to comb through all of the records they had started to make sense of when the message about the girls had come in and all hell had broken loose. They could return in a few hours time.

He tried to fight back the torrent of emotions threatening him and to focus on logic and reason. Vanessa had lost a lot of blood, for sure, but she'd been alive and breathing. The officer had gotten to her so quickly that he had seen Vanessa's attacker leap from the window. So it would stand to reason- he prayed- that they had gotten to her in time to save her. He could not think about what it would do to Joe if she died, how it was tearing his brother apart now. He would not think of how close he had come to losing Callie, again. While she was not the target, she again was a victim of violence.

What he could think about was getting back to the room immediately, and getting word about Vanessa's condition. And then, he had been so stupid to leave Joe alone with Callie. He knew his brother well: Joe's first thought would be to lash out, and who better to lash out against than Callie, his formidable enemy for years? And Callie would either go right back at him and exacerbate the whole situation, or, far worse, Joe would finally break her. There was also the slightest possibility that Callie would break Joe; she had his spirit and fire, and was smart enough to know just how to weaken him. He didn't trust either of them not to cross a line right now, but no possibility was good.

He arrived at the nearly deserted waiting room, mind whirling, and almost dropped the coffees he held in his hand. His mouth fell open. Never in a million years would he have expected to see what he did: Joe and Callie, resting together, eyes closed, Joe's arm firmly around her as she rested her head against his shoulder. He was literally speechless.

Joe must have heard him walk in, because his eyes opened immediately. "Van?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

Frank placed the coffees and sweatshirt on a nearby table and sat directly across from his brother. "Not yet. Soon." He pat his leg. "I sent Chet and Biff back to the Inn and have them on several errands. How are you doing?"

Joe took a slow breath before answering. "I'm… afraid," he answered honestly. "But I'm trying to hold it together."

"You're doing a good job," Frank replied. "I'm proud of you. It should be any minute. The fact that we haven't heard anything- that could be good."

"Or it could be bad," Joe stated, matter of fact, eyes dull.

Frank couldn't respond. Finally, he said, "I'll be by your side through this. She's strong and they got to her quickly." He paused, not willing to make empty promises, but needing to encourage Joe nonetheless. "Have faith. And thanks for taking care of Callie," he added, switching the topic.

"She was good company," he responded simply. Then, he met Frank's eyes. "It's hard, isn't it- watching someone you care about get hurt and knowing you couldn't protect her?"

"Yes, it is," Frank responded quietly. "But everything I told you before is still true. You love with everything you have and try your best, or you give up on happiness. I think we're both exceptionally lucky to have found women who don't want us to give up, don't you?"

Joe managed a small smile. "I do."

Frank covered Callie's hand for a moment with his own as he looked at her, and then concern crossed his face. "She's still very cold," he said, trying not to panic.

"Frank, she's okay," Joe said immediately.

Frank met his eyes.

"She's tough," he went on, rubbing her shoulder again as she slept. "She'll be okay. Get her back to the Inn when you can. I think she needs a lot of rest- she's still unsteady- but she'll be fine. Leave her be."

Frank was completely stunned by Joe's reaction and simply nodded. He reached over for the sweatshirt and gently covered Callie with it. He then handed Joe a coffee.

They continued to wait.

A half hour later, a middle- aged, female doctor walked into the waiting room. "Vanessa Bender?" she asked.

Joe quickly stood as Callie groaned, struggling to wake. Frank immediately took Joe's place and wrapped an arm around her, but he looked right at the doctor for additional information, his other hand on his brother's back for support.

"I'm Dr. Linden, the chief surgeon on call when Vanessa was rushed here. She is out of surgery and in the ICU now."

"She's okay?" Joe asked, barely breathing.

"She will be," Dr. Linden responded. "With plenty of rest and follow up appointments. Please, sit." She indicated the vacant seat next to Frank. Joe didn't need an invitation as his legs almost gave out, weak with relief. He felt Frank's arm around him.

"The thing that saved Vanessa's life was time- that's it. She was discovered almost immediately and taken to the hospital. Literally a matter of 10-15 minutes could have had a very different outcome as she experienced a lot of blood loss."

"What happened?" Joe whispered.

"She was stabbed in the lung, but because the knife glanced off of her rib, her lung was only partially lacerated. We were able to repair that damage to the lung. There's not much we can do for her rib, other than to tape it. Her liver was also punctured and damaged, which was the primary cause of the major blood loss, since the liver is a very vascular organ. The good news on that front is that the liver actually has pretty amazing regenerative properties. Vanessa's injury did not go below a critical threshold of functional liver tissue, so, in time, it'll grow back. No major vessels in the liver were hit- she was extraordinarily lucky in that regard. Other injuries were superficial and, while they caused some damage, they were stitched and should heal." The doctor smiled. "You can see her in about 20 minutes. Do you have any questions?"

Joe looked stunned as he processed all of the information, so Frank spoke up. "Yes. What can she expect in terms of recovery time? What are her limitations? How long will she need to remain in the hospital?"

The doctor turned to Frank. "All good questions. She'll remain here for 3-4 days under close observation as we watch for infection and check her vitals. She'll need to avoid strenuous activity- no exercise or heavy lifting- for at least 4- 8 weeks. Of course, everything depends on her. She is young and strong, but different people recover at different rates of time. She can't push herself. And, of course, she'll need follow up care with her regular physician." She reached into her pocket and handed Frank her card. "Please take my number here if you have any more concerns. The nurses will be able to answer most things, but I'm here to help."

Frank thanked her as she left the room.

Joe felt the color return slightly to his face. He had to see her.

"Go," Frank told him. "I'll be right here waiting."

Before Joe left, he closed his eyes in a prayer of thanks. He clutched the keys on his necklace tightly, and he could have sworn he heard them jingle. He looked down at them- nothing. It must have just been his imagination.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank called Biff and managed to get in touch with Andrea, who would be flying out tomorrow to see Vanessa. That had been a difficult phone call to make, to say the least. Now he was waiting for Chet to arrive and he knew he had to deal with another problem.

"Cal?" he asked. He had left her to make phone calls, and now returned and sat next to her, holding her hand.

"I'm so glad she'll be okay," she said to him.

"Me, too," he replied, and gently touched her face. "But now you have to do me a favor."

"What favor?" she asked him, warily. But he could tell that she knew.

Frank felt terrible. She was still exhausted and pale, and, though he was certain that she would be okay, he also saw that Joe had been right- she needed rest in order to recover. At the same time, she was as stubborn as Joe and wouldn't want to leave. Plus, worst of all, he knew she would be terrified to return to the Inn and would need him there, though she would never admit it.

"Go back to the Inn," he told her in a low voice. "You have to, sweetheart. You're very weak, and you need to gain your strength back. I've already called Chet. He'll be here in ten minutes. Pease do this for me. I have to be here for Joe, and we need to get back to this investigation immediately so that this madness will end, and Joe and Van will be safe."

She couldn't meet his eyes, and he was grateful that he knew her well enough to know every thought going through her mind.

"Stay with Biff and Chet for now. Literally _with_ them. In their room. Do not leave for any reason." He cupped her face and met her eyes. "I will be back to you as soon as I can, baby. I know you want me there, and believe me- I want nothing more than to hold you and keep you safe. But I promise you- you ARE safe. You call me... or your doctor… or John… if you get scared. You are brave," he whispered. "You can do this." He kissed her softly. "Pease rest. I need you to be okay. Do this for me."

Much to his relief, she nodded at last. "Okay," she managed.

Frank pulled her to him and held her tightly, stroking her hair as she rested her head against his chest.

"Will you tell Vanessa that I'll see her soon and that I love her?" she whispered, eyes still closed.

"Of course," he agreed.

"And Frank?" she asked, cuddling closer.

"Yes, honey?"

"Tell Joe thank you. And that it's time for him to be a hero."

"What?" Frank asked, pulling away slightly as she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"He'll know what I mean," she assured him, reaching up to touch his face. "He's… he's a good guy."

Frank felt a smile come to his lips. "Yes. He is," he agreed. He leaned down and kissed her slowly and tenderly. When he looked up, he saw Chet at the corner of the room, rolling his eyes. "Chet's here," he whispered to her. "I'll see you soon. I am here if you need me, and I love you so much."

Callie smiled. "I love you, too," she replied, and allowed Frank to help her walk to Chet, who, in turn, slipped his arm around her tightly to steady her.

As he watched them leave, he breathed a sigh of relief. He did love her... more than she would ever know.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe sat by Vanessa's bedside, holding her hand, studying her beautiful face and committing to memory every inch of it. This trip had taught him many things, and though the skirmishes had held him at bay, the tide of battle had turned.

Frank, Biff, Chet, and Callie… especially Callie… had helped him to see what he should have known all along: that if ever something was worth fighting for, it was love. With a small smile, he couldn't help but to think of Helen of Troy, the supposedly most beautiful woman in the world whose face had helped to start a war, to launch a thousand ships. But he couldn't imagine that she was as beautiful as Vanessa, or that anyone would fight harder than he would to win her heart.

He still had to make things right with Chet and reconcile his feelings for Iola, but the healing process had started. Iola had helped save Vanessa- he knew it with every fiber of his being. His heavenly angel had lent her wings to his earthly one. She had let him know that she loved him, and if she did, by extension, maybe he should honor her by loving himself. This civil war he had fought internally between hatred and love was finally turning to love. And damn it, he would allow himself to be selfish now and to fight for her and for his future.

"Vanessa," he whispered as he brushed back her hair, "I am so sorry for all of this, baby. But I promise you that I will love you more than you ever thought possible and you will always be first with me from now on. Thank you for making me see I was worth something again. Thank you for putting up with me. And thank you for showing me how to be a better person, Van." He blinked back tears. "You last saw me as a boy, but next time, you'll see a man."

He leaned his head against her hand and kissed it, closing his eyes.

"You've always been a stud either way," the softest voice whispered, and he opened his eyes to see a barely conscious Vanessa wanly smiling, though tears had escaped her eyes.

"I won't argue that," he choked out, and kissed her head, lips, and cheeks over and over. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered, and began drifting back to sleep as he clung to her hand. "Now get that bastard before I have to kick his ass."

Joe laughed through his tears. Only Vanessa. "I'll get him," he promised, and he would.

As everyone knew, he never broke a promise.


	26. Chapter 26

**Note:** _Many thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave a review and to offer support. You are much appreciated! Thank you to Drumboy100, Tinee Dancer, Orions Belte, EvergreenDreamweaver, sm2003495, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, BMSH, Hero 76, max 2013, and BeeBee18 for your reviews on chapter 25. This chapter is pretty long- over 4,600 words._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 26

Frank yawned as he returned to the room later that evening, having spent the entire day with Joe and Vanessa at the hospital. Vanessa had still been sleeping each time he peaked into the room, but his brother had never left her side and he'd be staying there overnight.

Now, it was late- almost midnight- by the time he returned to the room, and he assumed that Callie would be sleeping. He'd texted her several times and she had assured him that she'd been trying to rest. She had told him that she would be returning to their room from Biff and Chet's room so that she could get some sleep, and an officer would stand guard. Other than making her promise that she wouldn't be sneaking out of any third floor window, to which she had texted him back a frowning devil emoji, making him laugh, he hadn't been in touch with her in several hours.

An officer stationed outside their room ushered him in and closed the door behind him.

Callie wasn't asleep. She was standing, looking out the window, shoulders hunched over. When she turned to look at him, he could see that she'd been crying.

With no conscious thought, he crossed the room and took her in his arms. "Shhhh," he whispered as he rocked her gently, running his fingers through her soft hair. "What is it, honey?"

She clung to the front of his shirt, and he felt her trembling. She shook her head.

"Yes," he told her gently. "Talk to me."

"Oh, Frank," she sobbed quietly, "why did it happen to me?"

He went to answer, to explain what had happened earlier, when he felt a deep chill. And he understood immediately that she wasn't talking about the dart attack or even Vanessa.

He felt tears spring to his eyes. They'd never spoken of IT other than when she'd told him what had happened in gruesome and horrifying detail. She'd wanted to push it away and he'd helped her do that. But it was still raw and she, the strongest and bravest person he had ever known, was still struggling with its consequences. And even though she'd improved markedly in these seven months that they'd reunited, she'd faced so much of it alone. Her fierce independence made her pull away from almost everyone, even him sometimes. But burdens were meant to be shared.

This "vacation" had seen the constant invasion of her personal space, unwanted touching and grabbing, innocent though much of it had been intended. It was the darkness and entrapment of a basement, the terror of waking up hurt herself and seeing blood and death close by. The mention of beating and stabbing and everything else that the case had entailed, which he didn't think twice about sharing with her. But he should have realized what memories those details would have brought to her mind.

"I don't know," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He wanted to tell her a million things, but there was no answer. "But I wish to God it hadn't."

Her breathing had quieted and she looked up at him, eyes still bright, but controlled. "Thank you," she whispered. "You always tell me the truth." She managed a little smile.

Silently, he took her hand and led her to the bed, where she laid down. He crawled into bed next to her, both fully dressed from the long day, and wrapped his arms around her from behind, spooning her close. He kissed the back of her neck. "We are in this together," he whispered in her ear. "And you are the most amazing person I know. You _did_ survive. You _are_ thriving. And you _will_ continue to put it in the past, because there's no other choice."

In answer, he felt her move even closer and hold onto his forearm, making sure his arm was securely around her. "I'm okay now," she told him in a soft voice. "I'll _be_ okay."

"Yes, you will," he assured her.

He felt her body relax against his as she fell asleep. He blinked back his own silent tears, praying he could say and do the correct thing to help her; to help himself.

Then he kissed her cheek and shoulder, and slept beside her.

They were in it together, after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank waited outside for Joe the next morning around 8:00. They had to get an early start. Chet and Biff would be staying behind with Callie and doing some digging on their part into the Williams family before heading to the hospital to stay with Vanessa while he and Joe investigated the murders. He had texted back and forth with Joe several times since yesterday, and he was immeasurably relieved that Vanessa would be okay. And, he thought suddenly, Joe finally sounded like he was doing much better as well.

Frank just wished that he would be okay, too.

Last night had been terrible. Callie had awoken several times with nightmares, something for which he was altogether unprepared. She was scared and it had taken a lot to soothe her. The truth was, he was starting to get worried. She had been doing so much better, but this trip had set her back badly, as much as she was fighting it, and she was. But she was starting to lose the fight, and it was excruciating to watch.

He flinched as he thought of it.

 _"No! Please!" She'd flailed in bed, sobbing._

 _"Callie? Honey? What's wrong?" he'd asked, desperate to wake her. He tried reaching out for her, but that only made it worse._

 _"Stop!" She was screaming. "No! Please! Nooooo!"_

 _Alarmed, he'd held her down to protect her from hurting herself. Then, she'd awoken, so terrified at being restrained and so in a daze that she had started screaming again_.

" _Callie_ _! It's okay! It's me!" He'd tried to calm her, over and over._

Then, as reality descended on her, she had gasped, terrified, and slipped from his arms, and he'd heard her vomiting in the bathroom. When she finally emerged, completely pale, she had looked defeated, scared, and ashamed. The last emotion broke his heart as her screams echoed in his mind. And she'd tearfully asked him if she could sleep on the couch, and that had thrown him badly. Instead, _he'd_ slept on the couch, giving her the bed, and watched her as the process repeated twice more.

She had been been terrified of her nightmare and she was scared to death... of him. He knew that he shouldn't take it personally, that it really wasn't about him, but it still hurt badly. He had been the first thing she had seen when she'd awoken, and he knew she felt trapped as he had tried to stop her from flailing. That feeling of powerlessness and immobility combined with the memories of her assault had overwhelmed her. To see the woman he loved so distraught and to be physically there but unable to take her in his arms and comfort her was a truly awful feeling. Watching her from a distance rather be alone than by his side, clinging to a pillow instead of to him, had brought tears to his eyes. And in those moments, he wondered if he would ever be able to help her, reminded ceaselessly of her terrible pain. He hoped to God he could show her enough love to will her back to him, to the life that she deserved free of this trauma.

He wasn't used to her crying, as she rarely had done so before this trip. Then it had dawned on him that he didn't know if she had nightmares often; he'd never experienced witnessing her having one before, because they rarely spent nights together. She certainly hadn't admitted it to him if she had them frequently.

His mind had started playing tricks on him, and his emotions were right on the cusp of letting loose. What would she do if she had nightmares in a month? Would she even call him at school and let him talk her through it? Would she he turn to John- had she done so before- and did he comfort her still when she became overwhelmed? Did she let John hold her while she had pushed him away? Why?! He felt his face flush at the thought as fear and jealousy sprang to his heart.

Why did they have to be apart, across the country? Why the hell had it happened to her?! It was so damned heartbreaking and unfair. She was right to be sinking under the weight of that unanswered question.

They had so much more living to do, so much growth to experience together. And though he knew that living apart was the best remedy for her, as she was forced to face her fears and come back to him renewed and more confident, their separation for the next two years at least was still very painful to consider.

He had been so naive to believe that she could "put it in the past". Of course she couldn't. He was starting to see that it would always be there, an unwelcome and evil companion, but they were stronger and more solid than ever because she had survived it and let him in to help her through it, and they lived their lives happy most of the time, overjoyed in their newfound reunion. Still, it crept in at moments of affection or intimacy or when she felt threatened by something and she didn't even know why. Her progress had been tremendous, but so was his guilt that he didn't save her then and could not always protect her now.

That killed him every time he thought about it. He knew when she was "off" and terrified and how those moments affected her thinking. Once, after she had told him what happened, in those darkest of days, she had actually said to him that he "didn't need to be with her out of guilt," and the words chilled him even now. How could he convey to her that he had been in love with her since they were 15, that he'd loved her more every year, every day, that the terrible crime against her was simply an obstacle to overcome in their relationship, not an impenetrable barrier? He had known for a very long time now that she was 'the one', that literally nothing that could happen to her would ever change that. He didn't know the answer, but he would be damned if he would ever give up trying to get it. Now, he was relying only on her strength to save herself and his unyielding support to stand by her side until she healed. He would do that, of course, but he just needed her to love herself half as much as he loved her. _One day... one day._

He rubbed his eyes now and remembered her screams... Joe's screams. How nightmares had plagued them both for two very different reasons, but with the same results: the two strongest and bravest people he had ever known had been brought to their knees by their biggest enemy: themselves. The one enemy against which he could not protect them. God, it was almost too much to bear at times.

He was exhausted and physically and emotionally drained. It was so hard being the one who everyone depended on to be there and make things all right. Who ever helped him?

"Frank? You okay?"

He looked up and saw Joe standing by the rocking chair on which he was sitting.

"Ready to go?" Frank asked, followed immediately by "How's Vanessa?" and "How are you? Tell me about yesterday." He stood next to Joe.

Joe studied him, relieved that the officer covering him was giving him some space. "Yes, I'm ready. She's better, thank God. I got to talk to her a little, so that makes me feel good. And I promise I'll tell you all about it on the way to Stobak's. But tell me- before we leave- how YOU are. You look exhausted."

"I'm fine," Frank replied, not trusting himself to talk.

"Is Callie okay?" Joe asked directly.

"She... will be. She wants to see Vanessa," he said quietly.

Joe continued to study him and reached a hand out to squeeze his shoulder. "Hey," he said gently. "You've been here for me this week. Hell, you're ALWAYS here for me. Please let me help you, bro. You…look pretty upset."

Frank met Joe's eyes and took a shaky breath. Joe looked completely anxious, and Frank knew that it was a result of seeing HIM upset. Joe needed a _big_ brother now, not just a brother.

"I'm fine," he reiterated and forced himself to smile and relax his body posture. "Now… tell me about your night with Vanessa."

Joe sighed. He was starting to get worried. Although he had no idea what was wrong, he saw that his unflappable older brother was genuinely upset about something. He slipped an arm around Frank's shoulders and met his eyes. "I'm always here for you, bro. No matter what I'm going through, no matter what I'm feeling. Hell- no matter WHAT. Remember that."

"Thanks, Joe," Frank replied at last, steadying his voice. "I know."

Joe smiled. He'd follow up with Frank for sure, but for now, he was grateful for Vanessa's recovery, and for his newfound purpose in life. And for his brother, who he loved a lot… because Frank always put him first. He vowed silently to show Frank that he would do the same with him from now on.

"Let's go, Frank," he said, keeping his arm around Frank's shoulders. "It's time for action."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As he drove, Joe got a sudden idea. "Hey," he said to Frank, "I really don't think we need to see Stobak, and not just because he's a bit … odd. We got the info we need. Chet took his job seriously. I wonder… since I already spoke with the guys who bought the painting and the copy of _The Killer Angels,_ and since we have no leads on who this Susan Brownmiller is… what if we interviewed the author of the book that she purchased? Maybe this woman recognized the name of the author or the artist on the front? She had to have kept coming back for a reason, no?"

"And how exactly are we going to do that?" Frank asked. "Authors are from all over the world. I just feel like we're running in circles trying to interview a random person who is probably not relevant anyway."

Joe shrugged as he pulled over. "Give me the file," he told his brother, and Frank did so. Joe flipped through Stobak's notes. "I hear you," he said, and turned to Frank. "But I just have a feeling about this. Something happened in that store. A woman was killed, and someone knows something. It's the only crime that doesn't fit the pattern; no violence beforehand. And I don't like it when people act "weird" as Pete said and then someone ends up dead. This woman interests me- even though I know it could be nothing and I have no idea how to find her. But Pete told me that he features local artists and novelists in his store, and that's how I know that we can find the author. Maybe he or she would know something about the person who was so interested in the book?"

"It's a longshot," Frank replied, rubbing his eyes again. "But let's do it. It's better than sitting around and waiting… at least we have a plan now."

"The name is Carolyn Del Gato," Joe replied at last, locating it. "See if you can get an address in an internet search real quick."

Frank punched in the name, and was surprised to see that her information came up readily. In fact, she had her own website, in which she highlighted her various novels and artistry as well as some jewelry that she had designed. Even better, the address was less than fifteen minutes away. Giving Joe the info and calling the officer to let them know where they'd be, they headed to the location. Frank managed to call her directly as well to ask for a few minutes of her time, and, though surprised, she'd readily agreed.

After having arrived, Joe knocked on the door, and the brothers were greeted by a woman in her early forties with auburn air pulled back in a messy bun. She was thin and tall and dressed in a white t shirt and a long, colorful patterned skirt, and she wore huge hoop earrings and colorful makeup, even at this hour of the morning.

"Ms. Del Gato?" Joe asked politely, and she nodded.

"Joe and Frank Hardy? Come in. How may I help you?" She ushered them into a parlor in which several of her pieces of jewelry and other works were displayed.

"This is a nice place," Frank stated politely, and she smiled.

"I like it. Thank you. You called earlier and said you'd like to talk? I have to admit that I'm curious. It's early and few people would be calling me at this hour, much less wanting to visit."

"We'd just like to ask you about one of your novels," Frank began. "It's one of the larger ones, called _An Assault on Innocence_ , and it was featured as part of a display in Peter Stobak's shop.

Carolyn's eyes widened at the mention of the book. "My," she began. "This is certainly a popular thing to talk to me about over the past few months. Why do you want to know?"

"Why is it popular?" Joe asked, sensing that he had been right. Something was amiss with this original crime scene.

"You first," Carolyn responded.

Joe looked at Frank and nodded, and Frank proceeded to fill her in on the murder of Maggie Taylor and that they were in the process of trying to locate witnesses who may have seen something. He explained how they had checked out several large purchases made at the shop that day, and how they were hoping that she might know of this mysterious woman who seemed so interested in Carolyn's book, given the fact that there was currently no way to locate her. When he finished speaking, Carolyn had a disturbed look on her face.

"Strange," she said at last. "I remember a few things, but now at least I know why people have been asking questions. Hmm."

"Who's been asking questions?" Joe queried.

Carolyn pursed her lips momentarily. "I do remember a woman who fit the description that you've given me," she said. "She came into the shop and was very curious about the book; had a lot of questions, and she said her name was Susan. I'm self-employed and I try to get to know my customers well, so I was surprised that she didn't offer more information."

"Do you remember what time she came to see you?" Joe asked, knowing already that he would cross check it with the notes that Peter Stobak had given him.

"Oh yes. It was around 4:00 or so. I remember because I was closing early that day for my niece Nancy's birthday, and she came in and had question after question. Because of her, I was almost 45 minutes late to the party!"

"What kinds of things did she ask?" Frank went on. "Any information could be relevant."

Carolyn crossed her arms as she spoke. "She asked about the artwork and whether I had completed it myself. I had, and she seemed captivated by that. She asked what the book was about and I told her. Then she got very- I don't know- spacey? She seemed like she couldn't tear her eyes away from it; held onto a copy the whole time."

"May we see a copy in person?" Joe asked. "We just have a photo that Peter gave us that he had used for inventory purposes."

"Of course," Carolyn agreed. "I'll be right back."

As soon as she left, Joe turned to Frank. "Something's up," he said in a low voice. "This has to explain … something!"

Carolyn returned quickly and handed the large 16x 20 book to Joe, and the brothers studied it carefully. On the hard cover front, it showed a woman in a store about to be attacked by a knife of some sort. The man attacking was a Union Civil War soldier and the woman had her hands raised in front of her terrified face for protection. Opening the book, he flipped through several like scenes which essentially told the story, some of the later pictures more graphic with the woman lying on the floor in a pool of blood. In the end, a tombstone stuck out awkwardly from the ground.

"This is very interesting subject matter," Joe replied evenly, and went to say more when he saw Frank out of the corner of his eye intake a sharp breath and lose some color from his face. "Frank?" he asked, concerned.

"S… sorry," Frank stammered. "I… I think I need to go. Come on, Joe. Thanks for your time, Ms. Del Gato."

Joe stared as his brother virtually ran from the room. "I...uh…" he started. "This isn't like him. I'm so sorry."

Carolyn gave a genuine smile. "No… his reaction actually makes me hopeful."

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, puzzled.

"He understood the message of my work. Often, men miss the whole thing."

"I'm sorry. I still don't understand," Joe admitted.

Carolyn nodded. "See? All of the imagery in the work is phallic in nature." She pointed out several images on the cover alone, from the cane to the desk leg, and Joe felt the color rise to his cheeks.

"Oh..." he stammered.

"Yes," Carolyn went on, more serious now. "The book is about the sexual assault of a young woman during the war and her journey to gain back her life. In the end, she does, but not before a large part of her is buried forever. Did you know that rape is perhaps the most under-reported crime of all? And, during the Civil War time period, soldiers often took advantage of young women who were ruined forever because they were no longer considered marriage material. War brings out the worst in many people, Joe."

Joe looked up. "This Susan… she wanted to to know all about the book's history?"

"Indeed she did. She was particularly interested when she found out it was my story, just set almost 150 years ago."

Joe's mouth fell open. "Oh. Wow. I'm so sorry for what you went through," he said gently.

She gave him a small smile. "Thank you. Yes. I wanted to be the voice for those who felt they had none."

Joe nodded and handed the book back to her. "Carolyn, you said that 'people' were talking to you. Who else?"

"Just that woman," she answered. "Oh, and Peter Stobak. He said he wanted to do a little investigating about something."

Joe tried to suppress his shock. Thanking her, he headed out to the car, where he saw Frank in the passenger seat, eyes closed.

"You okay, bro?" Joe asked as he slid into the driver's seat. "Carolyn told me that you 'got' her message.

"Yup," Frank replied, voice low as he stared ahead. "I did."

"So there's the obvious connection," Joe went on. "I mean, something must have triggered this woman or whoever was watching her in some way. I really have to think about it; it doesn't quite make sense, since we're looking for a man."

"Joe," Frank replied quietly as they started to drive, "it has to be a local. That address, we discussed, is a real place here and no one would know that. But also," he took a deep breath, "Susan Brownmiller is the name of a real person. I just remembered."

"Wait. For real? It's not the customer's name?" he asked, surprised.

Frank shook his head and concentrated on facts rather than the sinking feeling in his stomach. He spoke at last, reserved, opening his phone to read directly from it. " _She was the first historian to try to discuss an overview of rape in war with documentation and theory. Her thesis was that "War provides men with the perfect psychological backdrop to give vent to their contempt for women. The maleness of the military—the brute power of weaponry exclusive to their hands, the spiritual bonding of men at arms, the manly discipline of orders given and orders obeyed, the simple logic of the hierarchical command—confirms for men what they long suspect—that women are peripheral to the world that counts_."*

"Uh… wow," Joe responded with a low whistle. "So it's the name of a real historian who explores rape during wartime and the idea that war makes them exert power and women don't matter. Interesting. How the hell did you know that? A class you took or something?"

"Or something," Frank managed.

"Okay- next stop. Stobak? I want to see why he was snooping around," Joe stated.

"You know," Frank cut in, "I'd kind of like to start looking into the goings-on at the Inn. Would you mind taking Chet with you? I'll stay with Biff after I drop Callie off at the hospital to see Vanessa. Andrea should be in soon, anyway. Would that work? And then I'll meet you later at the hospital?"

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Joe asked with a smirk.

Frank sighed. "Yeah. Why? Should I even ask?"

Joe laughed. "Anytime you are willing to hang out with Biff that doesn't involve football is fine by me. Be warned- he's out of control the past few days."

Frank rolled his eyes. "I can handle Biff. Besides, I already texted him."

"You did?" Joe asked, surprised. "So you planned it out without asking me?"

"Pretty much," Frank answered as Joe turned toward the Inn. "Oh, and Biff said to give you a message," Frank went on.

"Okay…" Joe answered. "Which is?"

"He said to give his love to Vanessa until he sees her."

"Oh," Joe responded. "That was mature of him."

Frank added, "And then he said to tell you that - and I quote- Ellen appreciated the large tip that he gave her- and to take that as you will."

Joe burst out laughing as Frank shook his head and closed his eyes, not even wanting to know what they were talking about.

 _*entry taken verbatim from wiki/Wartime_sexual_violence#cite_ -15_

 _**Brownmiller was a real person as described._


	27. Chapter 27

**Note:** _Thank you to everyone following the story and especially those of you who have taken the time to leave reviews and feedback, which makes a huge difference. To that end, since the last chapter, thank you to Tin Dog, Hero 76, FanHB08, Robin's Egg, EvergreenDreamweaver, Paulina Ann, max 2013, sm2003495, BeeBee18, DrumBoy100, Erin Jordan, and BMSH for your thoughtful and kind remarks._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 27

By noon, Frank had dropped Callie off at the hospital to visit with Vanessa. Like him, she was tired, but she was looked much stronger and completely put together when he'd seen her, and he felt okay leaving her by herself.

"I still don't see why you won't let me drive," Biff grumbled to Frank as they headed to the third real estate company of the morning.

"I value my life," Frank responded dryly.

"And this is so freaking boring," Biff continued. "It's so… corporate. It's so 9 to 5 desk job that some elitist Ivy league prep kid dreams about." He looked at Frank and realized what he'd said. "Present company is accepted, of course."

"Excepted," Frank corrected him, and, when Biff looked at him blankly, Frank sighed and smiled. "Never mind."

"Dude," he started to complain, but Frank cut him off.

"Biff, knock it off," Frank said as he drove. "We HAVE to do this. This is real investigative work. The devil is in the details, pal. You have to methodically go through things and analyze…"

"Shooooo… Shooooo…." Biff intoned as he closed his eyes and pretended to snore.

"Really, Biff?" Frank asked. "You and Joe must have some real intellectual conversations."

Biff sat up and laughed. "Frank, you're okay, buddy. Every time I remember that you were the valid victorian of the class and on the chess team and student government and a tudor, and that we probably wouldn't have been friends, I remember that you were a kick ass pitcher and quarterback and I forgive you."

"So I was a tudor and a valid victorian, huh? Is that like my ERA in baseball?"" Frank replied with a straight face.

"Wait. What?" Biff asked.

"Never mind," Frank repeated, letting out a low chuckle. "Just quit your complaining and keep me company."

"So where are we this time?" Biff asked with a sigh.

Frank looked at the paperwork again before answering after he parked the car. "Historical Holdings and Developments." He looked at Biff. "We've already found out some interesting things based on the information that Charlie gave," he reminded Biff. "There have been several companies and independent contractors trying to buy the Williams family Inn. It's been valued at up to four million dollars, but most companies haven't pursued it past that number. I was very interested in the last company, because it had ties with the company that owned the collapsed scaffolding when I got hurt, but based on the other reports that I was able to get, that looked like a legitimate accident. It wouldn't have collapsed if there wasn't someone from upstairs shooting out the window that held it."

"Uh… okay. So what do you want to find out here?" Biff asked.

"Just if this company has given up as well," Frank replied. "And what their bid number is. And then we play it by ear."

"Fine," Biff sighed. "Hey Frank? Can I ask you a question?" Biff asked.

"You just did," Frank answered, but nodded. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Did you ask me to come with you just so Joe could spend some time with Chet?" Biff went on. "Because if you did, you know- I mean, it's not the worst idea you ever had."

Frank just looked at Biff, and remained silent.

"Because, I mean, I'm not all that smart, but Joe kind of puts up with it. I think it's a good idea. Joe- he's been a little out of it, and maybe if Morton could help…" He blushed a bit, completely uncharacteristic of him.

"You're a good friend to my brother, Biff," Frank responded, kindly. "We haven't hung out too much since high school, and I'm happy that you're here. And who says you're not smart? I mean, I overthink things, and I am confident that you will always point out the obvious." His eyes twinkled.

Biff grinned. "Yeah, I can do that."

Opening the door, Frank got out and waited for Biff, hoping that Biff would continue to be on his best behavior. For whatever reason, he knew that Biff and even Joe tried to control their language around him and to cut down the antics at least a little bit, as if he would… raise a brow or something at them. He laughed quietly at the thought as he headed into the building.

Emerging from the building an hour later, Frank had stopped laughing. In fact, his mind was going in several directions at once. Much to his surprise, Biff had stayed relatively quiet and had actually concentrated on the various meetings and info that he had been able to procure.

"What'd you think?" Frank asked quietly as they headed out of the building.

Biff shrugged, but met Frank's eyes. "I don't know. They seem sketchy as hell, but that's with me just looking at and listening to them. I don't have any evidence or anything."

"Sometimes you need a hunch, and I don't think you're wrong," Frank told him. He gave a small smile. "It's almost like having Joe here."

"Just the dumber, but better looking version," Biff quipped, and Frank laughed.

"Anyway," Frank interrupted him, "something is off for sure. No one really wanted to talk to us, but when we did get the answer, finally, did you notice that the initial bid almost seven months again was up to five million? That's a lot more than the others. And it looks as if the subsequent bids have gone down sufficiently, but it's still at a good half million more than the others."

"Isn't seven months ago when that chick died?" Biff asked.

Frank sighed. "Yes, you're right. But that was just a natural death. Still, it might have been the impetus for the sabotage to start," Frank said, thoughtfully. "Honestly, you did a good job combing through the records the other day. You identified that the Inn was put on the ghost tour in February, just a month later. I think we need to talk to the ghost tour company and look into that."

"The guy we talked to in the end seemed nice enough. He's an advisor for the company in terms of the value of local real estate and history. What's his name? Dave Evans, I think," Biff continued. "At least…."

Frank almost stopped short. "Wait." He turned to Biff. "That's what was bothering me! Evans! He was the local historian who was at Pete Stobak's shop who had purchased one of the novels on the day of Maggie Taylor's murder. Why would he be advising a real estate company?"

"That makes no sense," Biff concurred. "It's so weird."

"What is?" Frank asked.

Biff actually paused before answering. "I'm just going with what what we've discussed, but it's odd that in both this case and the murders, you have Civil War guns used. I mean, that's crazy, right? And then this guy kept looking at me weird, like he recognized me or something, even though he was nice. But he DID recognize me, and not you, because I was with Joe the day that we were asking about the book that he had bought. And didn't you say that the author was late to a party for her niece?"

"Yeah," Frank answered. "Why is that relevant?"

"It's probably not, but isn't that kid Sarah at the Inn friends with a girl named Nancy? Could mean nothing."

Frank stared at Biff, impressed. "Or it could mean a lot. You… think the cases are connected? I guess they could be. I have no idea."

"Maybe we should ask more questions," Biff went on. He grinned. "I'm like Inspector Gadget!"

Frank sighed. "No, you're not! That makes no sense."

Before Biff could even offer a retort, he felt a sharp pain in his side as a dart tore through shirt. He called for help as he sunk to the ground, the world spinning as he tried to remain conscious. Through blurry eyes, he saw a figure behind Frank, heard a loud thwack… and then someone whispered something in his own ear: "You and your brother need to back off this case now. This is your warning."

He could barely process his surroundings. What did he see made him gasp: Frank was lying unconscious on the ground, having been hit hard across the back of his head.

He had to get help. Using every ounce of strength he had, he willed himself up and forward.

Biff managed to reach for his cell phone and called 9-1-1, then he sank back down next to Frank, who was bleeding from his temple.

"Hang in there, buddy," he managed as he forced open his eyes and tried to fight the darkness threatening to claim him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Before examining the information from Del Gato and heading back to town, Joe wanted to stop at the hospital to check on Vanessa. He would be back later, but he couldn't wait to see her, feeling guilty as it was that he was away from her for even a second. But if they didn't get to the bottom of the murder cases, they would both still be in danger, and he couldn't allow that to happen.

Since it was near lunch time, Chet was more than willing to stop at the cafeteria for a bit while Joe spoke with Vanessa. Then, they'd be on their way.

As he was about to enter the room, he saw Callie sitting with a still sleeping Vanessa, holding her hand. She was speaking quietly to her, and he awkwardly stood in the doorway, not sure of whether to stay, announce his presence, or give Callie a few minutes.

It was her words that caught his attention and prevented him from leaving.

"You have to get better soon, Vanessa," Callie said in a low voice. "I have so much to talk to you about, especially about that boyfriend of yours."

Joe held his breath. He knew that he shouldn't be listening in, but he was curious as to what Callie would say about him.

"Van, I... I think you were right about him. Yeah," she gave a soft laugh, squeezing her hand. "I know. You need to wake up and tell me 'I told you so' with that sassy attitude of yours. Joe and I… we came to a little understanding about how to treat each other. Look, he's funny and smart, and I think we'll always go at each other, but it's more teasing now and less… mean, I guess. I think at his core Joe is really a kind person, and he's definitely the second most handsome Hardy brother there is."

Joe tried not to laugh.

"I guess I'm telling you all of this because I need you to be 100% okay, and then you can see for yourself that I'm not lying. I know one thing for sure. He loves you a lot, Vanessa. I don't even know anymore if he needs time to settle down, but if he does, give it to him. I do think he's worth waiting for."

Joe smiled affectionately at her.

"Finally," her voice became a little shakier, "I have already lost one amazing friend and I can't lose another. I know you need to be fine for your mom- she's coming, you know- and for Joe, and for all of your family and friends who love you so much. But I am selfishly asking you to be okay for me, too. I need you to keep making me laugh and to see the happier sides to life. You always see the best in everyone and everything and you bring so much life and lightness to people. I need that, Van. Cause it's been really, really hard for me."

Joe looked at her, curious to hear what else she would say to that effect, but she switched topics.

"Anyway," she released Vanessa's hand, "I love you and I'll be here until you kick me out. Whoa," she joked. "The one time I can get a word in edgewise with you and I'm going to be quiet." She sat back in the chair next to the bed and closed her eyes.

Joe was about to walk in when he remembered Callie's reaction at being startled and her request not to touch her or to sneak up on her. "Knock knock," he called into the air. "An incredibly handsome and suave and extremely charming young man is here to see his beloved girlfriend."

Not missing a beat or opening her eyes, Callie called out, "Frank? That doesn't sound like you." Then she opened her eyes and winked at Joe. She stood up and looked down at Vanessa as he rolled his eyes.

Without thinking, he stood behind her, now that she knew he was there, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, resting his head on top of hers. She leaned back against him slightly and sighed.

"You heard every word, didn't you?" she asked, still looking at Vanessa.

"I did," Joe answered. "I think you may actually like me," he teased.

"Yeah, well, you missed the first half hour when I complained about what an awful person you were and how she should dump your sorry butt. I was just trying to atone for the harsh language I used."

Joe snickered, gave her a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek, and whispered, "Thanks, you obnoxious witch."

Callie laughed as she stepped out of Joe's embrace. "I'll wait outside," she told him. "Take care of her."

Joe nodded and smiled as she left the room.

A half hour later, Joe was in a considerably better moon. Vanessa had awakened for a bit and had spoken to him, and the feeling of sitting in bed next to her and holding her was, quite possibly, one of the most beautiful things he had ever experienced. It was as if some sign from above, which he firmly believed was from Iola, had given him a second chance, and he was determined never to take that gift for granted. Already, he was starting to contemplate just how to ensure that she would never doubt his love for her again, and that he would never again give her a reason to.

Knowing that Andrea was on the way and would be arriving soon, and that lunch was almost over and Chet would be looking for him, he very reluctantly got up, kissed Vanessa, who was now sleeping again, and walked back to the waiting room.

His phone started going crazy with beeping and he looked up and froze.

Chet had his arm around a very distraught looking Callie.

Biff, very pale, walked up to him. "Joe, it's Frank. He's been hurt…"


	28. Chapter 28

**Note** : _I am so appreciative for those of you following and reviewing the story. Thanks so much to the following people for the reviews since the last chapter: Tinee Dancer, Orions Belte, Tin Dog, DrumBoy100, Red Hardy, Paulina Ann, max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, sm2003495 (there is a tiny holiday story in the works!), BMSH, ErinJordan, and BeeBee18._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 28

"What do you mean, Frank's hurt?" Joe asked, panicked. He grabbed Biff's arm and dragged him back into Vanessa's room.

Biff spent the next few minutes relating the events of the day, before unsteadily walking to a chair and sitting.

Seeing how pale Biff was, Joe squeezed his shoulder compassionately. "Where's Frank now? Are you okay? You look like hell."

"Frank's in the emergency room. I guess the doctor will be out soon. I'm okay. The EMT dude said that it was a tranquilizer used on large, hard to control wild animals."

Joe fought a laugh.

"Shut up, jerk!" Biff replied, glaring at him. "I'll tell you this, though. Callie should be glad to be alive. No shit. If she got hit with the same thing, and she probably did, I don't even know how she's functioning. I'm well over a foot taller and at least 120 pounds heavier than she is, and it knocked me on my ass."

Joe became more serious. Biff was absolutely right. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked, more gently this time. "Thanks for helping my brother, man. How did he seem? Was he conscious at all?"

Biff shook his head. "No. Out like a light. Someone must have hit him really hard right after they got me. Know what the worst part of all of this is?" he asked.

"What?" Joe asked.

"That the dude thought I was Frank's brother. How anyone could confuse me for an ugly ingrate like you, I'll never know."

Joe laughed and pat Biff's back. "Stay here. Rest. I'm going to see where my brother is, okay?"

"Yeah," Biff mumbled. "Find out before you tell Callie. She looked shocked. Morton's with her."

"I saw," Joe replied. "Thanks, bro. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Much to his shock, as soon as he got to the emergency room, he was directed right away to one of the beds in the back, where his brother was lying down with an arm over his eyes. Before he could speak to him, a doctor came out.

"Frank's brother?" the doctor, a young Asian woman asked. "I'm Dr. Cho. Your brother's friend was brought in with him and explained what happened. He said that you'd probably be here soon."

Grateful for Biff, Joe nodded. "I'm Joe. Yes. Is he okay?"

"He has a concussion," Dr. Cho stated. "He was hit very hard on the back of his head. I'm concerned primarily because, according to what your friend said, this is the second major blow to the head that he's received this week. Is that true?"

"Yes," Joe answered quietly.

"You have to keep a close eye on him," she said, after a few minutes. "He's already refused to stay here for observation, which is against my advice. He was unconscious when he was brought in and confused when he woke up. You need to be on the lookout for any memory issues, and especially for signs of drowsiness, dizziness, blurred vision, and vomiting. His balance is going to be off, and he will be very sensitive to light."

Joe sighed before speaking. "Unfortunately, I'm aware of all this. Both my brother and I have had several concussions over the years."

"Football players?" she asked.

Joe smiled. "Yeah. Other things, too."

"He needs rest at night and he needs to take it easy during the day," she went on. "Drugs and alcohol and almost all other medications will be out while he heals. I would also tell him to avoid driving and doing anything that is too physically or mentally demanding. He can take extra strength Tylenol as needed; please call me if he needs something stronger. And an ice pack in interims of 10-20 minutes to avoid the swelling isn't a bad idea. Three words above all: rest, rest, rest." She smiled at him. "Got it?"

"Yes. Thank you. Can I take him home?" Joe asked.

"As soon as the paperwork is completed, of course," she said.

A half hour later, Joe drove Frank and Biff in the car on the way back to the Smytheville Inn. He kept taking glances at them, as Frank barely spoke and kept his hands over his eyes and even Biff was quiet for once.

Arriving back at the Inn, Joe wrapped an arm around Frank's waist and led him into his room with Biff slowly making his way behind them. He helped Frank lie down and turned to Biff.

"You both are staying here for now. You rest on the couch and let Frank sleep. I'm going to get him plenty of ice and there's water in the fridge if you need it. If you feel faint, or if Frank starts throwing up, call me immediately. Chet and Callie should be back soon. I'm going to check on Vanessa again and then take Chet with me to follow up on the threat you just got, and I'll have Callie watch over the two of you," Joe ordered.

"Could you get Ellen to come over in a sexy nurse costume?" Biff mumbled, half asleep already. Frank was already out.

"I don't know," Joe answered him with a small smile, throwing him a blanket. He made sure that Biff had some water and a pillow as well. "Based on your injury, don't you need a zookeeper or something?"

Biff raised his eyes to glare at him and Joe pat his hand. "I'll be back soon, bros!" he called out, and quietly shut the door behind him.

As soon as he stepped out of the building, he took a deep breath, fighting the fury in his veins. Callie, Biff, Frank, and his precious Vanessa had all been hurt, and for what? And why? It was time to make these puzzle pieces click.

Maybe, armed with all this knowledge and Chet's help, they could solve this case- these cases- soon. Enough was enough. Too many skirmishes and not enough victories. The tide of battle had to change now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two hours later, Joe and Chet arrived back at the police station. Although Joe had reported what had happened to Chief Cruz, he knew it was no avail. The cases were connected or they weren't; it really didn't matter. What did matter was ensuring that no one else would get hurt. Joe had asked Chief Cruz to have Dave Evans called in for questioning, and he wasn't playing around now.

"What do you want me to do?" Chet asked Joe, completely serious. "This has gone far enough."

"Damned straight it has," Joe agreed. "Keep reviewing the records of the people at the Inn the night that the tea was poisoned and that the scaffolding fell down. You can wait inside. I'm going to question Evans directly. Okay?"

"You got it," Chet replied evenly, and he grabbed the papers.

Once inside, Chief Cruz indicated for Joe to go back to the very same room in which he had earlier interviewed Adam Halperin. He was angry and trying to control his temper.

"Professor Evans," Joe said directly to him as he sat across from him at a table. "We meet again."

"Joe," he replied, annoyed. "I would like to know exactly why I was hauled into this office. I had absolutely nothing to do with the attack on your brother and friend. I was in the middle of a meeting and it was mortifying to be escorted out by the police based on a request from a kid no older than one of my college students."

"Who you obviously hold in high esteem," Joe replied sarcastically. "When I saw you the first time with my friend, it was to discuss with you the purchase of an early edition of _The Killer Angels._ You explained to me that you were interested in the piece because of its literary significance and historical subject matter, and you also said at the time that nothing suspicious happened at Peter Stobak's shop while you were there that day. Is that the story you're sticking with?"

"Yes," Evans replied, leaning forward. "Because it's the truth. And while I'm at it, I'm not going to be so nice now. You're bordering on harassment here. Quite frankly, you had no right to track me down over a personal purchase that I made on my own accord independent of my job at the university."

Joe leaned forward and crossed his hands. "Mr. Evans…"

"Dr. Evans," he corrected.

Joe fought the urge to roll his eyes. "DOCTOR Evans," he corrected, "I know that my brother spoke with you today about an entirely separate matter and I find it highly suspect that you are involved… or, shall we say, that your name has been involved… in two separate, very serious cases. My friend told me what happened today and said that you were very forthcoming regarding their questioning about the Inn, so I hope that you'll continue to be."

"Or what?" Evans retorted. "I have nothing to hide! Nonetheless, I certainly don't see why I should be doing any favors for you."

"Or what?" Joe parroted. "Let's start with obstruction if my theory holds up. So let's be clear: if you don't answer my questions honestly, Chief Cruz will be happy to extend your stay."

Evans sighed, nonplussed. "Go ahead."

"What is your role at the Historical Holdings and Developments Firm?"

"I was brought on as an adviser for my expertise of the area," Evans replied.

"That's it?" Joe asked.

"That's it," he replied.

"Then certainly, as an adviser, you'd be privy to secret meetings, wouldn't you be?" Joe went on. "Don't worry. None of that information will be used against you unless you're complicit in something illegal."

Evans stared at him for a moment. "Yes, I am privy to inside information."

"What can you tell me about the Smytheville Inn?" Joe pressed. "I understand that your company initially bid very high on that property- to the tune of one million above competitor's offers. And even though the bid amounts have gone down, they're still significantly above the current going price. So, to start, let me point out the obvious fact that it is to your benefit that 'accidents' would be occurring there, as pressure to sell from the Williams means more to your bottom line, and, second, why would your company bid so high on a property like that? It doesn't seem to make good business sense. Please… do explain." He sat back in his chair.

"I have had nothing to do with the goings-on at the Inn," Evans explained quickly, but his body language conveyed something else altogether. Then, he sat back himself and looked at Joe seriously. "But I CAN tell you about the Inn's historic significance. I had started speaking of it last year in my local history course, and one of my students, Nancy Emerson, asked me about it. She was very interested because apparently her friend's uncles are the Inn's proprietors. I explained to her that I was researching the Inn for a chapter of a journal as part of my post doc work, and she suggested that I get in touch with the Realty property to discuss my theories."

Joe's mind was spinning. "Okay," he said slowly. "What did she find so fascinating? Why would she care? What exactly were you teaching your class?"

For once, Evans' face lit up with excitement, and Joe could tell that he was genuinely interested in what he was saying. "Well," he began, slightly flushed, "I'm considered an expert in literature of the Civil War period, and one thing that has always fascinated me has been secrets hidden in history that literature might reveal. It would take me a long time to explain my theory and how I arrived at it- you're welcome to audit my class next semester if you're really interested- but I have come to believe that, somewhere in the Inn, a truly gigantic secret awaits."

"Yes?" Joe asked, seeing how Evans was trying to make this a huge reveal.

"I believe," he went on, leaning forward and speaking more quietly, "that the Inn is home to a huge pile of gold that the Confederate soldiers hid there during the battle. I've spent years working on this theory. If it's true, it could be worth millions."

"So that would explain why a company would be willing to take that risk to bid over market value if the potential payoff could double their profit," Joe concluded.

"Exactly," Evans concurred.

"Let's say I believe you," Joe replied after a few minutes. "And when you shared this information- not QUITE a secret, but not common knowledge, with your group- it's probable that some business people may have seen an even bigger potential for profit if the Inn was less desirable, right?"

Evans nodded. "It's possible," he replied carefully, "but I swear to you that I had nothing to do with it."

Joe met his eyes. "But you might know who DID, correct?"

Evan said nothing.

"I'm going to level with you," Joe stated directly. "My brother, girlfriend, and friends were all hurt badly at that Inn. I want to know why. Tell me what you know, or you'll be charged as an accessory to a crime."

"I don't have an answer for you!" Evans replied, emphatically.

"Then who DOES know? Who in the Williams family even knows about this legend? Shall I assume they know that they're sitting on a potential literal gold mine?" Joe pressed.

Evans sighed before speaking. "Joe, I don't know. I assume that Nancy told Sarah, and that Sarah probably told her uncles and her mother, but I don't know."

"What DO you know?" Joe asked. "No bullshit. What do you know?" he repeated.

"I know nothing," Evans insisted. "But I do have a theory. Nothing to back it up, of course…"

"Go ahead," Joe cut in. "Be direct, and you won't get in trouble."

"I have suspected collusion for some time," Evans admitted. "It seemed a bit… odd… to me that just when I was brought on as an adviser, and right after that poor woman died at the Inn, things started happening. Gettysburg is an old town. The bigwigs in the realty company know a lot of people: I could see them knowing people in the ghost tour circles who could get the Inn on the route. But as far as anything else that I've heard- poison tea, darts, accidents with scaffolding, shooting, stabbing, chills in the air, screams of ghosts in mid afternoon- I have no idea about how any of that could have happened. Unless…" he hesitated.

It took Joe a moment. "Unless there's an insider working on it," he said after a moment, and then, all at once, the pieces started to click.

"Dr. Evans," he said after a few moments of contemplation, "in your experience, have you seen or heard of people getting a reward for valuable information when it comes to real estate?"

Evans flushed a bit. "It's not unheard of."

Joe leaned forward again, things getting more and more clear. "You've been very helpful, Dr. Evans. I'll ask Chief Cruz to release you- no harm, no foul- as long as you agree to keep your mouth shut about this with your colleagues, to write down the names of anyone who you might deem as unsavory, so I can check it out, and that you promise to report to your accountant any additional bonus that you may have received above and beyond your 'consulting' fee… in the interest of the country and paying your fair share of the taxes, naturally." Joe smiled tightly as he slid a piece of paper and pen to him.

"Of course," Evans said in a low voice. He wrote two names on a piece of paper and slid it back to Joe.

"Thank you, Professor. Have a good day," Joe said as he got up and left the room. Stopping briefly to see Chief Cruz, he reported what he'd found out and slipped him the names, asking him to do a little digging and assuring him that he'd be back soon.

Seeing Chet, he motioned for him to follow.

"Find out anything?" Chet asked, and Joe smiled.

"You've no idea," he told him, "but we need to get back to the INN A.S.A.P, pal. I have a few things to figure out, but I think we just blew a huge hole right through the Smytheville case. I'll fill you in along the way."

"Awesome!" Chet exclaimed. "I don't want to see anyone else get hurt… or die." His voice changed tone suddenly before it faded off.

As Joe sat in the car for a moment, he knew that he had to think hard about the loopholes in his theory and gather some more information. For the first time since he could remember, he was pretty much on his own to solve a case, at least for as long as Frank was hurt. The thought was scary, but empowering, as he was starting to believe that he really could investigate as well as his brother, and, though their styles were different, they could be equally as effective. The least he could do for Frank was to finish was Frank had started and with which he had gotten very far. Frank would have taken the extra burden for him if the situation were reversed.

But he also looked at Chet's face. Chet, who had been so good to Callie and Frank. Chet, who he could count on to always help, in his own way. Chet, who had embraced Vanessa without resentment. Chet, the brother of his first love.

"Have a few minutes to talk?" he asked quietly, much to Chet's surprise… and his own. "We could stop at the Pennsylvania State Monument? It's the largest one in Gettysburg.* And it's peaceful."

"Sure," Chet replied. "Okay."

He knew that he could spare just a little time before going back to the Inn.

For Chet.

*This monument is the largest in Gettysburg.


	29. Chapter 29

**Note:** _As always, thank you to those of you who have left feedback/ reviews since the last chapter: Hero 76, Paulina Ann, sm2003495, EvergreenDreamweaver, Drumboy100, max2103, BMSH, BeeBee18, and ErinJordan. You all are much appreciated and make my day!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 29

Over the course of the drive to the monument, Joe filled Chet in on everything he had learned. Chet, he could tell, was listening carefully and trying to make the same connections that he had. They continued to discuss the case after he had parked, and as they got out and climbed up the monument.

"So, based on what you found out, there are a few things to find out still," Chet said thoughtfully.

"What are they?" Joe asked with an easy smile. "Go ahead, pal. Tell me what we DON'T know. I'll start. We haven't checked out the names of the people who Evans gave to me to see if he was telling the truth. I'm inclined to think that he was, so then we should probably focus on those people. He has no motivation that we know of to set anyone up, and, if I was him, I'd want to clear my own name ASAP. So once we check out those people, we find out who else might have known that Frank and Biff were investigating and there you go. There's your attacker."

"You don't think that the threats are related to the threat that you received on the murder cases?" Chet asked.

Joe took a seat and indicated for Chet to do the same. "No. The first was against Vanessa and me. That call- it still bothers me- came in twice and HAS to be related to what we saw with the Pabsts. However…" he started thinking, "I mean, something is wrong. What the hell are the chances that Callie and Biff got hit with tranquilizer guns? Hmmm."

"Yeah, and Callie and Biff weren't the real targets," Chet went on. "Vanessa was the target and that had to do with the murder cases. Frank was the one doing the interviewing here."

"Plus, whoever hurt Frank thought that Biff was me- the horror," he joked. "But that might mean that the person didn't know who I was, obviously. Ugh! This is confusing. The dart is the same weapon, but the people and message are different."

"And what about the Williams?" Chet asked. "I guess you'd have to assume that Nancy told Sarah."

"I would assume that everyone in the Williams family knows about that legend, but I should never assume," Joe went on, thinking. "I'll have to ask Charlie about that. What Evans said was true. Someone on the inside had to be helping -to poison the tea, call out "ghost" when it was crowded, shoot out the window. But why? What benefit would-" All of a sudden, he understood. "A cut," he said in a low voice.

"Huh?" Chet asked.

"Think about it," Joe went on, animated. "Evans probably got a substantial bonus for his research, right? The company is loaded. What if … what if someone in the Williams family would benefit from the inflated sale price, get a cut of the extra profit? What if someone didn't know or care about the legend, and just wanted to get the sure money- a quick sale?"

"So, like, if the Inn sold for four million, but it's only worth three, someone would get a cut of the profit - someone who could push the sale through? You'd trade the certainty of the sale, plus the bonus, of the uncertainty of what might just be a legend of the gold." Chet smiled, pleased with himself.

"But who?" Joe went on. "And who had access to Civil War guns and poison and…?" He cut himself off as an idea hit him. "Chet- did you bring the papers?"

"Yeah," Chet replied as he reached into his bag. "Here you go."

It was a good fifteen minutes before Joe spoke. He switched between the records in front of him, a little internet research on his phone, and what he knew; what Frank had told him. Finally, he let out a deep breath. "I know," he said quietly.

"What kind of person would want to hurt someone in their family?" Chet asked. "That's awful."

"Not person… people," Joe related with a sigh. "I need to hear back from Chief Cruz," he told Chet. "By the end of the day, we should have this mystery solved, at least."

"Wanna share?" Chet asked, curious.

"Not yet," Joe replied, and then gave Chet a small smile. "I need to check out my facts and run it by Frank, but I think I'm right. Thank you. You were actually a big help."

"You sound surprised," Chet replied, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. "I'm occasionally useful."

"Occasionally," Joe teased.

"Want to head to the Inn?" Chet asked. "I know you want to see Frank."

Joe took a deep breath. This was it. Frank, Biff, even Callie had made him think about a lot of things, had supported him when he probably hadn't deserved it and had focused him on what was important; had made him start to see that maybe HE was important and loved and worthy of a future and happiness. He would dedicate himself fully soon to making things work with Vanessa, but he had one more, vitally important piece that he had to make right.

"Actually, I'd like to talk to you," Joe replied, sitting up straighter.

"Well, I'm an interesting guy to talk to," Chet replied with a grin. "What's up?"

Joe closed his eyes for a minute and, as usual, just decided to speak from the heart. "I feel her here," he replied, finally, looking at Chet now. "She's everywhere."

The grin dropped from Chet's face as he realized the direction that this conversation was about to take. "I know," he replied simply. He turned from Joe and stared at the gorgeous expanse of battlefield in front of them. After a few minutes, he added, "I was walking the other day and I swear I smelled her perfume. And when you guys went to the Ball and Biff and I were just chillin', we hung back and watched all of the re-enactors in the town. It was kind of cool, honestly. I felt as if I was back in time. And then-" he paused.

"Go on," Joe said quietly.

Chet turned to him. "In the far distance, dressed in a really pretty mauve dress, I swear to god I thought I saw her. She turned to me and smiled and waved, and when I got up to go after her… she was gone. Don't make fun of me, Joe. I saw her. I know I did."

"I believe you," Joe responded. "Completely."

"You don't think it's bull? Good," Chet concluded. "I remember when we were kids and we'd go camping, Hooper was either starting trouble when we were real young or getting drunk when we were older."

Joe smiled at the memory.

"And your brother was always so concerned that the fire was just right and the tents were sturdy and was always looking out for everyone. Tony was always cooking. Phil was always analyzing frickin scientific data with Frank. But you? You always believed in spirits. I knew, cause I did, too."

Joe nodded. "I did," he acknowledged. "Not a lot of people know that. Van does."

Chet studied his watch before speaking again. "I miss her," he said, finally. "All the time."

"So do I," Joe replied, and reached out to squeeze Chet's arm. "And I owe you a huge apology."

Chet looked at him, and Joe knew he had startled him.

Joe swallowed hard. "Chet, you were one of my best friends. And I know it was hard for you at times to see me and your sister together. I didn't always treat her right," he went on, mouth dry, "and I'll regret that for the rest of my life. I can promise you, though… I really did love her, with my whole heart. And I never meant to hurt her."

Chet nodded slowly, silent.

"But this apology is for you," Joe went on, willing himself not to get emotional. "When Iola died, I lost my shit. I felt so damned guilty every day that it wasn't me who died. And I'll be honest- I'm working through that guilt now, and I'm much better, thanks to you- and Frank, and Vanessa, and everyone who supported me-but I'll never get over that guilt fully."

"Okay," Chet said, stoically.

"Chet," Joe went on, "I realized a few days ago, after all this time, that I never acknowledged what you and your family went through. I was guilty and ashamed and I did what I did best back then… I ran. I could never look your parents in the eye, and I figured… I guess… that if we never talked about it, we could ignore it. But we can't. I was totally wrong, and I know I hurt you."

Chet looked at him at last, and wiped his eyes quickly. "Yeah. You did," he choked out.

"I know," Joe acknowledged, with a deep blush. "Yet you never took it out on me or Vanessa. I know it has to be hard for you to see us together, but I swear to you I will never forget Iola. _Never._ I just have to reconcile what I did and what happened so that I can start to really live, you know?" Joe wiped back his own tears. "I believe in my heart that Iola would want that, though it took me until this case- this place- to understand that. I hope you can move forward, too."

"It's a struggle," Chet admitted. "I cannot replace my sister."

"I know," Joe replied, taking another deep breath to control himself. "Vanessa is not a replacement for Iola, by the way, for me. She is my future and Iola is my past. They're both a part of me and I wouldn't be whole if I didn't have both. Chet, I can't pretend to understand what you have been through. If I ever lost Frank…" Joe surprised himself, as his next words were so shocking that he could barely manage them, "I don't know what I'd do. I would have a hole in my heart forever... if I could even live without him. And I don't know if I could."

Chet nodded, surprised, but eager. "YES. That's it! Now I know you understand," he replied in a shaky voice. "I saw what you did to yourself when my sister died, and I felt awful about that for you. But I was also angry that you got to act out and get all the attention and support, when, really, so many of us were suffering, too."

Stunned, Joe replied, "I never thought about it like that. I didn't MEAN to act out. I just felt out of control and … everything," he added. "And I wanted-n _eeded_ \- to turn that everything into nothing and that's why I lost my mind. I am so sorry," he concluded. "And I hope one day you can forgive me. You're one of my best friends, and all I can do is to promise you I'll make the effort with you again instead of pretending that our past doesn't exist. And I promise I will honor Iola's life with my own."

Chet stood and reached a hand down for Joe, helping him up. After a long while of silence, he turned to Joe. "I think it was important that we met on a monument," he said at last. "You can remember the past in a beautiful way. You can move on with your future, but it's always there to revisit and remind you of where you came from. What do you think?" Chet asked.

"I think that is … a really nice idea, Chet," Joe replied. "Let's make sure we try to visit the mausoleum together from now on. I think Iola would like that."

"Back to the Inn?" Chet asked, and Joe nodded. "Let's do it." He and Chet hit their fists together, and he felt lighter than he had in years.

Hearing a buzz, Joe checked his phone, a puzzled look on his face as he recognized the number, and he went to listen to the message as he and Chet returned to the car.

In the distance, a hopeful young girl watched the encounter, tenderness in her eyes for the two men she loved so much, and, finally, peace surrounded her. She turned away, a final glance in their direction, wrapped in the warmth and the Presence at last. She raised her eyes to the sky, saw the light...and was gone.


	30. Chapter 30

**Note:** _Thank you to those who have "Favorited" this story and especially for those of you who have left feedback since the last chapter: BeeBee18, MooninScorpio (the comment about the outhouse and why it was appropriate made me snort out loud- hilarious), DrumBoy100, FanHB08, sm2003495, Guest, EvergreenDreamweaver, max2013, ErinJordan, candylou, and BMSH. I appreciate each and every review/comment._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 30

Callie slipped into the bathroom of the room where she had been keeping vigil over Frank and Biff, who were both sound asleep, thankfully. It was the only place where she could get any privacy.

Her nerves were shot and she wasn't doing well; she knew that. Bombarded by violence, she was slipping back to an ugly place, that state of mind that she'd battled every day from which to emerge.

She took a shaky breath and fought tears. What was the matter with her? This place, these circumstances- they were making her scared to death and she was getting nightmares again. Twice, she'd had flashbacks so intense that she'd thrown up; she hadn't eaten for almost two days. And that worried her, too, as she had fought a borderline eating disorder for months after IT happened, trying so hard to control something in her life. Neither Frank nor Johnny even knew that. No, Frank didn't know everything she had gone through here, either, as she'd tried so hard to hide it from him.

She was in a very dangerous place now as she felt the self- loathing creep up on her for the first time in over a year. She hated being scared. She wasn't a crier, either, but now she felt herself always on the verge of tears. Her whole life, she had been independent and confident, so much so that she had given up the love of her life to stand up for herself. How had she gone from the woman who 'deserved better' to the one who 'deserved nothing'?!

No one had 'saved' her except herself, though her doctors and Johnny had helped her rebuild her life from the ruin it had become. And Frank had been the most supportive person on earth, loving her fiercely and passionately and being so tender and patient with her. She had been doing okay, too. Her head was back on straight, she no longer used food as a weapon against herself, and she had recreated herself, stronger than before.

Until this week; this 'vacation'. She was startled by how quickly she could regress, teeter on the brink of strength and collapse. She needed to regain her confidence quickly before it was lost forever and she didn't know how to do so.

The other night had been the breaking point for her when she had realized just how far she had slipped. She actually felt her mind go elsewhere as she had run from Frank's arms and retreated into herself. It made no sense that she could treat intimacy like this. One moment she wanted to get as far away as possible from Frank's touch, and the next she needed him almost to the point of desperation. Either way, she could lose herself and avoid the memories of that night that had changed her forever.

But it wasn't fair to Frank and she knew it, though it terrified her that she literally had no control over it. Frank seemed to understand that somehow and knew how to bring her back, but everyone had a limit. They'd only been physically reunited for three weeks in the winter when she had told him about IT, and then had been together only a little over a week in the past month and a half. That was it. So, it was a constant battle to fight for their survival, though she knew they were both enormously grateful to be together again, excited to start anew, and deeply in love with each other. Each moment together, whether just hanging out, talking, laughing, having fun, or making love was so precious, and she hated wasting a single instant. It shouldn't be this hard, and, until this trip, it hadn't been.

Her therapist, with whom she had conversed much this week, told her that she needed to leave. She was in an unhealthy atmosphere with constant triggers for which she wasn't prepared. Johnny, initially supportive of her decision to stay, now questioned it as well. He offered to fly out and drive her back to Bayport or to fly her back to California early, where he could help her regroup in person. She was sure that Frank would _love_ that idea ...

Johnny was worried about her, and she loved him for it. But she couldn't ask him to give up on all the acting roles suddenly landing in his lap to help her. Finally, exciting things were happening for him after all his hard work and his talent was getting recognized. Yet, she knew him well; it meant nothing to him if she wasn't okay.

It would kill Frank if she left him to go to Johnny, and she wouldn't blame him at all if he broke it off with her if she did so. He would never understand that it wouldn't be going _to_ Johnny; it would be getting _away_ from here to protect her sanity in the only other safe haven that she knew.

Panicking, she closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle, some middle ground of safety where she could regroup and get her bearings.

Johnny on one side, Frank on the other. Her best friend and her great love, who barely tolerated each other because they both loved her. She was protected and safe with them both when they were with her, when they held her in their arms during the worst of times.

But she didn't want to be held anymore. She wanted to stand alone and hold herself up.

Then it hit her with such force that she gasped. The middle ground, the center between her two pillars, Frank and Johnny…

...was Joe.

 _Maybe_.

She was willing to try it.

With trembling hands, she scrolled through her contact list on her cell phone and dialed his number.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe looked at his watch and waited for Callie to come outside. After the emotional roller coaster of this afternoon, and the many aspects of the cases that he had to worry about immediately, he was drained. Worrying about Vanessa, Frank, and Biff was only adding to his stress levels. And though he felt a sense of renewal after having spoken with Chet, he remained puzzled by the cryptic message that Callie had left.

He took out his phone and listened to it once more for good measure. _Joe? Hi. It's Callie. Everything is okay with Frank and Biff- don't worry._ Pause. _Joe… I… was wondering if I could talk to you this afternoon if you have a little time when you get back. Maybe 3:00? Outside the Inn when you get back with Chet? If you can't… it's okay. Um… okay. Thanks. Bye._

Weird. Why would she call him? Maybe she needed a break taking care of his brother and Biff when she, herself, was still recovering? Her voice sounded off, too. She seemed hesitant, for sure, but… he was fairly certain… there was an undercurrent almost of desperation. He could hear the slight quiver in her voice. That was why he had immediately texted her back and told her yes.

He'd dropped Chet off only five minutes ago.

Looking up, he saw her walk slowly to the front of the Inn, holding one wrist with the other hand. She was looking down, and slightly hunched over. From her body language, it was evident that something was wrong. Getting out of the car, he waved to the officer on duty and then jogged to her.

Reaching her, he asked, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Can you walk with me?" she asked quietly. She looked at the officer in the distance. "I think it'll be okay if we go down to the picnic area."

Joe eyed her carefully. Something was definitely off. He nodded and texted the officer on duty, promising to stay in his range of sight. He saw the officer surreptitiously get out of his car and follow at a distance.

"Sure," he told her, and walked with her in silence for a few minutes before they reached the picnic area, now deserted.

"Thank you for meeting me," she began slowly. There it was again; that sight quiver in her voice.

"No prob, Callie," he replied. "What's up?"

She took a few deep breaths before meeting his eyes. "I'm asking to talk to you as a friend, because right now I… I'm… having some trouble and I don't know what to do. I need help, Joe." Her lip trembled a bit.

Joe's eyes widened, and he reached for her, startled when she stepped back."Oh…" he stammered.

"No...it's not you," she said shakily. "I need your advice and I'm asking you for a few things."

"Okay," he replied, still puzzled by the whole scenario.

She bit her lip for a moment and then met his eyes again. "I need you to be honest with me. I need you not to ask me a lot of questions. I need you not to tease me. And I need you to allow me some space."

"Can I ask you something?" Joe interrupted.

"You already broke one rule," Callie replied with a small laugh, though he could tell that she was nervous.

Joe smiled as he sat on the table. "Why me, Cal? Is it because Frank's hurt?"

"No," she responded. "I… I can't really get into it with him. It's very complicated."

Now Joe was on alert. "Go ahead," he said at last.

"You said I'm blunt," she began. "And I can be, and I am, with the people I can trust. So I hope you're one of them," she said in a small voice.

"I am," he replied. "I told you that. I'd say we've made great progress, wouldn't you?" he asked her, watching her as she sat across from him, playing with the hem of her skirt.

She smiled sadly. "For sure," she replied.

"So talk to me," he went on, hands crossed. A demonstrative person by nature, it was weird for him not to touch her at all for comfort, but he respected her wishes.

She was quiet for several minutes. When she spoke, he saw how hard the words were for her, especially to utter to him. "Joe, I've watched you have a really hard time the past couple of months. And here, in particular, I've seen moments where you looked like you were wound so tightly that you would burst at any minute. You seemed to get upset and furious in a flash, and…" she blushed…"I don't mean to offend you, but you seemed sad a lot. Like you could break at any minute."

Joe felt the color rush to his cheeks, but he forced his mouth shut. She was right; even now, his first instinct was to lash out at her about her words. To do so would be to prove her right.

Seeing him trying to process her words while struggling with his temper, Callie continued. "I'm not criticizing you," she said quietly. "I'm asking you how you dealt with it, because...I feel exactly the same way."

"What?" he asked her. "Why?" She looked shaken.

Callie couldn't meet his eyes. "This has been a really hard week for me," she admitted, and wiped back a tear that had fallen. "I know it's been hard for everyone, but a lot… I mean… it…" Finally, she turned to him. "I'm scared. And I want to run. I feel trapped," she went on, voice breaking a bit as she wiped back more tears. "And you know what's the worst part? I hate myself for feeling this way. I hate the fact that I don't feel strong and that I have to rely on people to help me. It's so shameful," she sobbed quietly. "I want to feel like myself again. Whole. Brave. I don't want your brother to feel like he has to take care of me. I don't want to be a burden."

 _Whoa._ He was shocked. Where was this coming from? It didn't make sense. At the same time, he understood exactly what she was saying, if not why she was saying it. And she was clearly in pain and, potentially, on the verge of doing something she would regret.

"Shaw," he replied at last. "Can I at least hold your hand?"

Callie looked up and a small laugh escaped. "THAT's your advice?"

"No," he replied with an eye roll. "But it does help to have a little human contact when your head's not on right." He reached out a hand, and, slowly, she reached for it.

"Good," Joe replied, gently squeezing her hand. "You've said a lot, and I just needed to think. Damn it, Callie. You really are the female version of me in a lot of ways. It kind of freaks me out, to be honest with you."

She nodded weakly.

"Sometimes Frank and I forget that what we do on a fairly regular basis is pretty scary and dangerous," he started, slowly. "And I know that you've been through a lot this week. When we were kids, you always wanted to be a part of everything. Then you got hurt on a case that you ironically wanted no part of, and you promised me that you wouldn't get involved again. Remember that?"

She nodded, remembering well how scared she had been. She also knew it was the first time that she and Joe had engaged in a real conversation, that they had dared to speak of Iola to some degree, and that, to some extent, they had both seen that they cared, at least a little, about the other. But when she and Frank had broken up, any trust had been shattered. This bonding was brand new for them, and she could tell he was navigating carefully. Much like Frank would do, she knew he was building to something.

"I remember," she acknowledged.

"You've kept your word," he told her. "And I appreciate that. This was not your fault. I know that the poison could have been very serious. And the basement- that must have been scary, too. Plus, what happened to Van…" he cleared his throat, "was terrifying. And, really Cal- who the hell gets hit with a tranquilizer dart?" He offered a small smile. "I understand why you're scared, and thank you for telling me."

Callie tried to even her breathing. He had no idea why she was really terrified, but his compassion touched her. "I have nightmares," she blurted out.

"I understand," he responded after a minute. "I did, too," he said at last, feeling a little embarrassed about this unabashed honesty. "For a long time. Sometimes, I still do."

Callie nodded. "I imagine you would," she whispered.

"Callie," he went on, finding the strength in his voice again, "where are you going to run? And why? You have a good support system here, and Frank has offered many times, I know, to take you back to Bayport so you'd be safe."

"Not Bayport," she replied, quietly. "California."

Joe widened his eyes. "But you have a month before school starts," he reminded her.

"It's just too much here," she replied.

"I… don't know how to respond to that," he said evenly, after a minute. "I know this was so traumatic for you, but Bayport is your home, and…" It dawned on him suddenly and he sucked in his breath. "I'm going to be blunt, too," he stated, and released her hand. "If you want to run back to your man in California, don't expect me to help you. I'm starting to like you… to trust you… but I love my brother, and I won't stand by and watch you hurt him."

She looked shocked. "How many times do I have to tell you that I love Frank?" she asked, defensive, emotions starting to overwhelm her. "I don't need to justify anything more to you. See what I mean?" she asked, standing up. "I AM alone. No one understands. I'm sorry I confided in you," she choked out, red in the face.

"Stop!" he cut her off and stood next to her. "Callie, COME ON!" he exclaimed, almost shouting, but then he lowered his voice at once. He went to reach for her arm and she almost tumbled back. It stung. He didn't understand; he would not hurt her, ever.

"Sit down. Please," he encouraged her. "I won't yell again, but you need to chill out. You asked me to tell you the truth. I don't feel comfortable with your friend and neither does my brother. He loves you enough not to say anything. Me? No offense, but I don't. I'm starting to … like you. To respect you. To trust you. And I think you feel the same way. So let me try to help you, because you mean the world to my brother, and … hell, _we're_ friends now. Don't break our deal."

"I won't," she replied. He saw how hard she was trying not to cry. "I feel broken, Joe, and I need help."

"Callie," he replied after a minute, deciding to be brutally honest with both her and himself. "I GET you. I know you're scared, and I'm sorry I didn't anticipate how strongly you would react to what's happened here. Know why? Because you and I put up these damned walls when we don't want people to see us vulnerable."

"Yes," she whispered.

"I heard every single word that you said to me before," he went on, emotional himself. "Every one! You were completely accurate with your analysis of me. And IF I ran, I would ruin my own life and any chance of happiness I have ever had." He stepped closer to her, looking into her eyes. "Callie, I HATED myself for what happened to Iola. I wanted to die, so I… I tried to…" he went on, face red as the painful memories surfaced. "I almost self-destructed. It took me a long time, and the support of my friends, but especially of Frank, to work through it. And when I met Vanessa, I thought I had. But then I freaked out, okay?!" By now, tears had risen in his eyes. God, she brought out the rawest of emotions, good and bad, in him. He took a deep breath. "If I bailed again, I would lose everyone. I'd lose myself. And as much as I hated myself, a part of me didn't want to give up. Everyone has been telling me this! But when I saw Vanessa in that hospital…" his voice cut out. "It all made sense: what was important and what wasn't."

Callie was completely rapt. He could tell that she was hanging onto every word.

He reached for her hand before she could pull away. "I don't know why this week affected you so badly, but clearly it did. There is no shame in asking people for help, because people care and want to help. God, Callie- I didn't even realize it until the past few weeks. Don't waste the time that I did! You ARE strong and confident. You're brave. You CAN survive on your own. Your independence comes through in every breath you take, Cal. You're no shrinking violet- I think that's the expression."

"You think so?" she asked, and her voice held a pleading quality he wasn't used to hearing.

"Yes," he emphasized. "You're a force to be reckoned with. And I know that because so am I, and it's like... we are way too alike for my own liking." He smiled. "Damn it. I sound like Biff now."

Callie smiled through water- filled eyes. "No need to go that far," she joked weakly.

Joe chuckled. "Callie, you CAN talk to me- anytime. But please," he added more seriously as he rubbed her hand, "do not run. We all need a little help sometimes. When I wanted to be alone, no would would let me, including you. I realize now- I'm starting to- that although I know no one will understand exactly what I felt, that it's okay. I wasn't the only one affected by what happened to Iola; I understand that now."

Callie sucked in her breath.

"Everyone mourns a tragedy in their own way. You can only get through it- as much as I hate to admit it now- by sharing that pain… a little, at least. I hurt the people who cared about me for a long time by not accepting their help. It was selfish. And now…" he blushed again. "Callie, I'm trying to learn and grow. And it's painful and sometimes lonely when I realize all of my mistakes. But I'm starting to feel better- a little stronger because of it."

"Thank you, Joe," Callie whispered.

"You're welcome," he replied, and they stared at each other for a long moment, realizing that they had managed to share another intensely personal moment. "Oh-" he added, finally looking down for a minute before meeting her eyes again with a little smile. "One more thing. You are not a burden to anyone-even me," he teased her. "But especially not to Frank."

She blushed. "I rely on him so much," she said, quietly. "Too much."

Joe felt a smile come to his lips. "Nonsense. In fact, he would say you don't rely on him enough. Cal, my brother is the most genuine person I know. He's the epitome of selflessness, and he's taught me so much. He's the mentally toughest person I know, because he keeps so much inside and works through things that way- it's just the way he is. And with everything EXCEPT Iola, I'm the exact opposite. You know exactly where you stand with me. Anyway- I say this because you are my brother's one weakness."

"Oh…" she stammered. "I don't know how to take that."

"Take it as a caution," he told her, completely serious. "You have changed him forever, no matter what happens with you two in the future. He would do literally anything for you to make you happy, because I know- he's told me dozens of times- how happy you make him. He really loves you so much… almost as much as I love Vanessa," he added, and Callie laughed softly.

"That's a HUGE power you have over him to make him even stronger or to crush him. Treat him right, Callie. When I open up to him, and it's really a major pain in the ass to get me to do that sometimes, we get closer. Be open with him. He wants to help you. You hurt him when you shut him out; so do I."

Much to his surprise, Callie looked at him and impulsively stepped into his arms, hugging him tightly. He returned the embrace, gently rubbing her back. "Cal, we are going to be formidable enemies or really the best of friends one day," he told her with a sigh and an affectionate kiss on her forehead. "It could go either way. I hope it goes in the right one."

Callie pulled back and reached for his hand. "Me, too," she said, openly. "Thank you."

"Ah, don't thank me," he joked. "Another little conversation that's best kept between us, wouldn't you say?"

"Absolutely," she agreed.

"Now- let me try to finally get answers on this case. It's about time that good things start to happen, and they're going to. I feel it. Come on, FRIEND", he emphasized. "Let's finish things up soon and head home. It's time for things to change."

 _Yes,_ he thought again. _It certainly was._

Hand in hand, they headed back to the Inn.


	31. Chapter 31

**Note:** _I cannot thank everyone enough who has taken the time to leave a review. I so appreciate your feedback and your thoughts. Thank you to Robin's Egg, Hero 76, Lena 59, Tinee dancer, BeeBee 18, Guest, CandyLou, sm2003495, Erin Jordan, MooninScorpio, Paulina Ann BMSH, max 2013, and EvergreenDreamweaver on your reviews since Chapter 30. Only four more chapters to go!_

 _I just wanted to answer a few of your reviews, but I cannot reach some of you via PM. Thank you all for making me think! Guest: I was going for exactly what your review stated. Callie IS the female Joe; that's why they both love and hate each other. In time, their relationship turns out very well. This is the transition story to that progress and shows they got there. And BeeBee18, Yes! every talk does make them closer, as they share more and more of each other's feelings. Candylou, Callie doesn't expect Joe to understand everything; she prays he will listen to her and help her through it, since they are so alike. Joe does that and does not ket her down, as she kept his secrets. BMSH\- Callie and Joe are growing together here. It's not that Callie doesn't trust Joe in later stories, she does; but not here. And for her, her secret is so painful that she can't share it. It's not a reflection on Joe; it just reflects her own trauma and in inability to talk about it. To everyone: Your support is so appreciated and has been enough encouragement for me to work on a little story after this one. I wouldn't have done that if I thought no one was reading... so thank you!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 31

Chief Cruz sent Joe, via encrypted email, information on both men whom Evans had named, complete with their driver's license photos. After considering things a bit more, he headed back to his room, where he knew that everyone, including Callie, whom he'd sent ahead as he read through the files, would be there.

Knowing that the Chief and several officers would be on their way soon, he wanted to run everything by Frank. Opening the door, he was surprised to find only Callie sitting with Frank, who looked slightly better as he sat up in bed, hand loosely intertwined with Callie's.

Callie stood up. "Chet and Biff are in their room," Callie explained without needing to be asked. "Biff's doing a lot better, and Chet told me that he wanted to triple check everything for you one more time. I'll head back to my room and let you talk," she said.

"No. Stay," he encouraged her. "You and Frank know the Williams family the best. You were both hurt here. You deserve to be in on this conversation." Seeing how surprised she was, as well as the puzzled look on Frank's face, he added, "as long as you're not the overly talkative, opinionated motor- mouth we both know you can be."

Frank called out, "Joe!" as he grabbed his head in pain, but Joe was relieved to see that Callie was laughing.

"You're still an idiot," she quipped, and Joe gave her a quick wink, chuckling when he realized that his poor brother had no idea what was going on.

"Guys," Frank groaned. "Please."

Callie smiled at Joe before heading to the refrigerator to retrieve another ice pack. Unobtrusively, she gently took the old one from the back of Frank's head as he grimaced and replaced it.

"Just hold it there," she told him, quietly, as she bent down to kiss his cheek. Then, she made her way to a nearby chair and sat down. "All you," she told Joe.

Before Joe began, he turned to Frank. "How are you feeling? You have to stop getting your Ivy Leave brains spilled," he teased, though his eyes were serious.

Frank rubbed his forehead. "Terrible," he admitted. "But I understand you made a lot of progress. So- tell me!"

"Are you sure?" Joe asked. "I'm pretty confident that I'm right, and you need to rest."

"Okay, Mom," Frank replied, sighing. "I'm fine. Now talk!"

"You asked!" Joe warned him. Over the next fifteen minutes or so, he filled Frank and Callie in on what had transpired with Professor Evans. Then, he walked to Frank and took out his phone.

"While you were complaining to Callie about the ice pack, I texted Biff these two photos. Can you confirm with me which of these two men you saw when you had your meeting?" He showed the phone to Frank, who squinted at the screen.

"That guy," he said, pointing to a dark haired man. "McAllister, I think his name was."

"Good," Joe acknowledged. "That's what Biff said, too. Let me text Chief Cruz and I'll continue in a minute."

As he texted, Frank motioned for Callie to come over. Quietly, she sat beside him and she held his hand again as they waited for Joe to finish.

"Okay. So here's where we're at. The police will be here in about 20 minutes. I want to tell you my theory, and then you may want to avoid this whole scene. It could get ugly," he cautioned.

"Go ahead," Frank said.

"The Williams family has had the Smytheville Inn in their family for a long time, and, over the years, it has continued to increase in value, as you know,' Joe began. "But Charlie and his family- supposedly- did not want to sell, though they could have made millions off it. From what I've determined, Charlie is really the one who owns the Inn- he just shares the space and business with his brother and niece. I had Chet look into this angle when we got back, and he spoke with Charlie, who said that he'd heard of the legend of the Confederate gold, but he was never really interested in finding out if it was true. He said he thought it made the Inn all the more charming, and that- Cara?- would have liked it."

"Cora," Callie corrected him. "That's his wife. He really adored her. She's why he didn't want to sell."

"Exactly," Joe went on. "And when Charlie dies, his will states that he will pass on the Inn to his sons, if they want it. If not, it will be given to his sister, who no longer lives in the area, and Hank, to do with it what they will. Charlie told all this to Chet, who's been pretty good at thinking about what's been going on here."

"I'm not seeing where this is going," Frank replied, honestly. "Then again, my head is pounding and I'm not terribly cognizant right now."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Only you could say 'terribly cognizant' with a concussion," he joked. "Anyway, because Charlie never left the area, he's known about the legend for ages. But when Cora died and Hank and Sarah moved in, they didn't know."

"So when Nancy Emerson told Sarah about it, she may have been very interested," Frank cut in, focusing. "Yeah, I see where you're going. She had no emotional connection to the Inn, so it would be in her best interest to find this treasure or…" he was missing something, his mind still foggy.

"It's confusing," Joe agreed. "Because even if Charlie sold the Inn, then Sarah or Hank wouldn't profit from it, unless Sarah's cousins, Charlie's sons, didn't want it. That was my problem, too. But then I started thinking… Evans probably got a huge bonus for his information that he leaked to the Realty company, especially since I think Evans was pretty confident that he could locate the treasure… eventually. So if Evans could get a huge bonus, couldn't others?"

"Oh! I see it," Frank agreed, concentrating hard. "That's why the offer from that company was well over the asking price, like you said before. If the Inn sold for a million dollars over, or a half million dollars over market value, it's pretty much a wash, because the real value of the Inn is in the unknown gold. So let's say that Charlie sold for $4.5 million. If the company could afford $5 million, that's a half million extra, so…"

"So it would be a 'finder's fee'- a reward," Joe validated. "The lower the price that the Inn sold for, the larger the profit. But since the Inn's actual value doesn't matter to the company, because it's hedging its bets on the gold, the company could offer any of that profit up to the $5 million mark to the people who could get Charlie to sell. It's completely greedy, but when you're common people, the difference of a couple of hundred thousand dollars is a big deal- a really big deal."

Frank sat up straighter, trying not to crush Callie's hand as a wave of pain hit him. "Okay," Frank responded at last. "So you're saying that the sole interest of the real estate company was to buy the Inn, since the company would pay almost any 'reasonable' amount for it. But Charlie wouldn't sell, unless… unless he was motivated to do so."

Callie spoke up, upset. "Oh no! Are you saying that someone in Charlie's family would get a huge bonus for getting him to sell, and that even if they didn't get the share of the money from the sale of the Inn, they WOULD get it from the company? How terrible! Charlie loves this place."

"That's the problem, Cal," Frank agreed, rubbing her hand. "At first, whoever did this probably just wanted to scare him into selling it with ghost stories. When that didn't work, they tried to humiliate him by suggesting that the place was evil after the woman died here. And either the family or the real estate company paid off the tour company to put the Inn on the list of haunted places, virtually ensuring that the stories would continue and would hopefully hurt business."

"But that didn't happen," Callie interrupted. "Charlie said that even more people were drawn to the place with its ghost history, and that ghost hunters and mediums even selected the Inn as a landmark to investigate activity."

"Yes," Joe agreed, winking at her. "Very good. So when nothing went according to plan, they had to resort to violence. The ghost tours and stories, the woman's death, even the faulty heat and air systems which caused 'chills' to tourists- it was all ineffectual. So, enter the basement incident and the poisoning, the latter of which was extreme and deadly. But money can do that to people."

"Who are you talking about?" Callie asked.

"Sarah," Joe and Frank said at the same time, as Callie gasped.

"What?! No. I.. I mean, I was with her and Nancy! They were screaming. They were nowhere near me when it happened." She shivered, and Frank slipped his arm around her. "She was very nice. She's a… kid…" Callie stammered.

"A very wise, malicious kid," Frank went on. "Cal, think about it. When Chet and I checked out the basement… wait. I didn't tell you! We checked it out and found only one set of footprints exactly where you would have been standing. Nancy and Sarah are friends. They faked the screaming because they knew it would be a busy time of day and people would hear it and think of ghosts and violence."

"But… something touched me," she went on, trying to be calm as the memory assaulted her.

"That's true," Joe agreed. "My guess it was Nancy's boyfriend, who coincidentally happens to be Nellie and Archie Pabst's son. That took me about five minutes to find out, since there are pictures of all of them all over Instagram and Facebook. And I think it's him because he was chewing that damned gum that Archie seems to like and which we found at his store. Wrong case, but clear connection anyway. He probably tripped the circuit breaker, stood by the air unit, and then grabbed you. The circuit breaker prints have yet to come in, but I'm sure his are there. And Sarah would have access to the basement. Since you're a stranger, you'd lend credibility to the incident."

Callie, pale, could only nod for a moment as Frank squeezed her gently to reassure her. "So everyone was in on it?" Callie asked.

"Actually, I don't think so," Joe replied. "Sarah, for sure. And she probably promised Nancy a little bit of money to pull a prank, but she wouldn't be stupid enough to tell her why. Kids are always doing dumb things. And chances are good that the boyfriend, the Pabsts son, was just trying to impress Nancy. That'd be my guess."

"But the poison! That could have killed people!" Callie declared, shocked.

"True," Joe acknowledged. "But she must have been on a time frame and getting desperate. She's not a good kid. She was fighting with her family, and she was already in trouble in Ohio- had a record for distribution of drugs. That was easy to find. Charlie was nice enough to take her in. She would have no problem knowing what plants to buy online and how to mix them. And to that same end, it takes about two minutes to find out how to get or make poison darts. You can make them-step by step- there are tutorials on YouTube. And someone with Sarah's drug knowledge could easily purchase them from a black market site."

"Oh my gosh," Callie sighed, trembling a bit. "That's awful!"

"Callie," Frank said directly, picking up on Joe's thought process immediately. "You don't see it, baby," he said gently. "Sarah worked in the kitchen, but not alone. And Sarah wouldn't know how to fire rifles, especially from the Civil War. Sarah also would not have the familiarity factor needed to persuade Charlie to sell."

Callie's eyes widened. "Hank?!" she asked, incredulous.

"I'm afraid so," Frank answered.

"Charlie is going to be devastated," Callie replied, distraught. "You think that he pretended to be on Charlie's side about not selling, but, when the sabotage started, he probably started hinting about it being the right time to sell… things like that," she concluded.

"I don't understand something," Frank chimed in. "The dart is bothering me. Let's argue that Sarah had access to it, and assume that she knew who I was, since Callie and I had spent some time with her and Charlie alone. If she and Hank found out we were investigating, I guess it even makes sense that they would have confused Biff for Joe."

"You don't have to get insulting now," Joe cut in, and Frank shook his head.

"I'm serious," Frank went on. "Neither one of you spent much time around the Williams's family. So, from a distance, tall, blond…"

"Very sexy and muscular men look alike," Joe cut in.

"Exactly… yet not," Frank answered, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, let's say that Hank or Sarah- probably Hank, since he's more established- called ahead to the Realty company to give a heads up that we would be there, and that McAllister attacked us with a dart that he would have had in the office ahead of time. MAYBE that works."

"I know," Joe sighed. "That's a pretty rare weapon. So how the hell did Callie get hit with the same thing on a separate case? The only thing that would make sense is that Hank attacked Callie with it, right? But Hank has literally nothing to do with the murder cases. Even if we could place him near anyone- and we can't-he's not in the physical shape he would need to be to stab anyone or bludgeon them, even if they were women and physically not as strong. And I am NOT saying that women can't be strong," Joe added, looking directly at Callie, "but Hank is too old. There's no way he has the strength or agility to be so violent."

"Sarah?" Callie asked, warily.

"No," Joe answered. "She's possibly has the strength, but she is one, left -handed, and the ME reports say the attacker was most likely right handed, and two, she has an alibi. We know where she's been when the attacks took place. Plus, we're probably looking at a male based on the lack of hesitation of the wounds."

"Then how does the dart fit into both cases?" Callie asked. "And if Hank probably shot out the window here that night with a Civil War gun, who else is running around with a Civil War gun and trying to hurt you?"

"Great questions," Frank answered. "Now we need the answers."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours later, as Joe was on the way to the hospital to see Vanessa, Callie and Frank stood watching Charlie standing in his living room, staring at his family pictures. Both Hank and Sarah had been taken into custody, and he remained, alone, shoulders slumped over.

Quietly, they made their way to him. Callie spoke first. "Charlie?" she asked quietly. "How are you doing?"

He turned to her, eyes bright with tears, and managed a small smile. "Hello, darlin'," he said to her. "I… I'm devastated," he admitted. "Why didn't they just talk to me? I have money they could have had. I would have investigated the claims of the gold. That's my brother… my niece… how could they do this to me? What will happen to them?"

Gently, Callie placed a hand on his shoulder as Frank stood behind, watching. "Well," she began, "some of the things they did were very serious. Even though Sarah was behind most of it she'll probably be changed as a juvenile, and there's always hope that she'll reform. As for Hank? I really don't know. I just hope he realizes the error of his ways."

He looked down at her and shook his head as he wiped away a tear. "Just like my Cora, always looking for the best in people," he said to her. "Having you here is almost like she's telling me it'll be okay."

"It WILL be okay… in time," Callie replied with a smile of her own. "And I'm sure that your sister will be here now that Sarah is in custody. Maybe some good will come of it, and you can reconnect."

"Indeed," Charlie replied. "And when I called my sons, they said that they were coming here for a visit to help out. I'll see my grandkids…"

"That's wonderful," Callie told him.

Charlie stood upright. "What is NOT wonderful is that dinner is in a few hours, and I seem to find myself considerably short- staffed," he said at last. "I'd best be going. I have to call some of the local kids to come and help out."

"Where's the list?" Callie asked. "I'll call for you. AND I'll help you cook tonight."

"You… you'd do that for me?" Charlie asked, stunned.

"Of course," Callie responded with a warm smile. "Please. The pleasure is all mine. Now I get to see some of the amazing recipes that Cora developed. It doesn't get better than that!"

Charlie reached out to her for a moment and touched her arm. "Thank you," he whispered. "The list is in the kitchen. I'll be right there."

"Then I'll see you in a minute," Callie replied, and she walked out of the room, stopping only to give Frank a quick kiss on the cheek and to remind him to rest.

Charlie walked over to Frank. "That's why I kept the Inn," he said to him.

"What is?" Frank asked, confused.

"Because the Inn was everything to Cora. We built our lives together here," he answered. "Son, I can't thank you enough for all you did for me. I wish the outcome had been different, but now I know the truth. Now I have a chance, at this late stage of my life, to maybe have one more opportunity to rebuild; to reconnect with my family, my REAL family, who loves me for me, and not what I can offer them."

"I wish that for you, too, Charlie," Frank responded kindly.

"And I do hope that you come here to visit in future years," he added. "Bring Callie and your babies. I know she will bring you as much joy as my precious Cora brought to me. Hold onto that beautiful girl." With a final pat on Frank's back, he left for the kitchen.

"I will," Frank whispered to himself. "For as long as she'll have me."


	32. Chapter 32

**Note:** _Thank you so much to everyone who left comments on/since the last chapter: Tinee Dancer, Drumboy 100, EvergreenDreamweaver, Paulina Ann, max 2013, Hero 76, sm2003495, Erin Jordan, BMSH, and BeeBee18. Everyone who takes the time to leave feedback is especially appreciated and always makes my day!_

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 32

Arriving at the hospital, Joe made his way to Vanessa's room, carrying a large bouquet of flowers. He couldn't wait to see her. With one case down and the suspect pool narrowing a bit on the other one, he was hoping to get one evening alone with her.

When he arrived, she was sleeping. Carefully, he placed the bouquet down by the window, leaned down, and kissed her forehead as he sat by her bed. Despite her still pale countenance, she looked beautiful and angelic.

Hearing a noise, he looked up and saw Andrea, Vanessa's mom, enter the room. He stood immediately, and impulsively went to hug her, an embrace that, to his relief, she returned without reservation.

"Hi," he said to her, pulling out the seat on which he had been sitting and offering it to her. "How have you been?"

Andrea, who shared her daughter's bright smile and tall, thin frame, smiled at him. "Well, honey," she said as she sat, "I've been better. I've been here for several hours already; I just went to get a cup of coffee. It's hard to see my baby like this," she admitted, reaching for Vanessa's hand.

"It sure is," he agreed, pulling up another chair to sit beside her. "And I am so sorry that this happened to her, more than you'll ever know."

Andrea nodded. "Callie called me and told me everything that happened in detail after I initially spoke with your brother. I know that you've tried hard to protect Vanessa, Joe. I also know that you're in danger as well. Please be careful, honey. This isn't your fault, and my little girl would be absolutely devastated if anything happened to you."

Joe swallowed hard, emotional. This woman, who he knew really only in passing, was being so kind and generous. Her daughter had been hurt under his watch, and she was demonstrating only compassion. Suddenly, he remembered Vanessa's voice, full of sadness, telling him that he'd never taken the time to know her mother. And now he knew that she had been correct, and it was important that he do that.

"Andrea?" he asked.

She looked at him curiously.

"You know that I've dated Vanessa for a little over two and a half years. And I… I wanted to assure you… I'll do right by her, and she is the most important and wonderful person in my life."

Andrea's brows raised, but she gave him a small smile that made her pretty light blue eyes twinkle. "I'm completely certain that she feels the same way about you, young man," she answered.

Joe's smiled and leaned forward. "I'd like to apologize to you," he told her, swallowing his pride. "Vanessa loves you, and I really love her, and it's been wrong of me not to know you better. She talks about you all the time, and…" He took a deep breath, "she's going to be a part of my life for a long time, and so will you. Would you mind if I came around more often with Van?"

"That would be delightful," Andrea replied, still smiling. "Really. I would like that."

Joe sat back and crossed his arms. "Well," he began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "since we're both here now and waiting for our girl to wake up, why don't you tell me some stories of Vanessa as a kid? And make sure you tell me some really nice, embarrassing ones!"

Andrea burst out laughing. "I suppose I could share a few… if you share a few about yourself, of course," she replied, teasing. "And make sure they're accurate, because I understand you're prone to exaggeration a bit, and I know that Callie would tell me the truth!"

"Ugh," Joe groaned, "don't believe a word she says about me!" he quipped. "Judge me on the charm you see before you."

"Well, Callie did say many complimentary things about you when she called me to tell me about what had happened," Andrea replied with a straight face. "I suppose that I could disregard it, though."

Joe laughed. "Well, she's been known to tell truths once in awhile," he joked. Then, getting more serious, a sparkle, though, still in his eyes, he added, "and tell me about you. I know you've influenced Vanessa's interest in computers and she's amazing. And…" he paused before continuing, "tell me how you're a modern woman but you love that antique china."

"You know about the china?" she asked, surprised.

"I do now," he responded quietly, "and I should have a long time ago."

Settling into her chair, Andrea began, "Ah, the pottery. That started a long time ago when Vanessa was just a little girl…"

The next two hours flew by. Joe found himself captivated by stories of Vanessa growing up, and he could see the small instances that ultimately culminated in the young woman with whom he had come to fall in love. Andrea was very smart, engaging, and funny, and treated him with total respect. She was genuinely interested in learning about him as well: his childhood, his aspirations, his adventures; above all, his sense of family. It was a conversation, but also a test, he knew, and he felt confident that he was passing it with flying colors.

When Andrea excused herself to get dinner and offered to bring him food as well, he accepted with gratitude, and he found himself looking forward to seeing her again and talking more.

And when Vanessa stirred at last, he sat next to her immediately and started kissing her repeatedly, so much so that she started laughing. It was indescribable seeing her there, awake and in his arms, looking up at him with such love and relief. He promised himself again that he would speak the words from his heart from now on with her, needing no filter anymore.

"You are the most gorgeous person on the planet," he whispered to her. "And you need to get out of here and heal immediately so I can show you my appreciation."

Vanessa giggled. "It's the hospital gown. Mumu chic," she joked. "Nothing screams sexy like this."

"Mmmm," he intoned, kissing her again. "I can play doctor if you're the sexy nurse," he said in a low voice.

Vanessa smiled and cuddled against him, and he held her close. "Joe," she said in a soft voice, "I can't even leave until tomorrow at the earliest, and I can't… _you know_ … for 6-8 weeks." Then she looked at him, her blue-gray eyes uncertain. "I know it's never been that long before. I… guess… I mean, if you can't…"

Joe's mouth fell open as he realized what she was implying, and he pulled back somewhat, and looked directly in her eyes. "I love you," he said, pointedly. "And while I love every minute of ... _you know_ …" he made air quotes to make her feel better, putting her at ease, "it will be amazing to have it to look forward to. Kind of sexy, actually, as we'll have plenty of time to plan every," he kissed her, "little," he kissed her again, "detail." He finished punctuating his sentence with a series of little kisses to her lips.

She was looking at him with such love that he felt his heart melt.

"And," he added, more seriously, "we need this time. To talk."

Vanessa laughed. "Right. To 'talk.'"

Joe's eyes were serious. "Yes, to talk," he repeated. "I hurt you. I need to make up for it. I want to know everything about you, and I want to spend every minute just being with you. You and your mom won't be able to get rid of me."

"My mom?" she asked, shocked.

"Yes," he told her, gently. "She's a good woman; I like her a lot. We started to know each other. I think it's about time we did that, don't you?"

"That'd be great," Vanessa whispered, touched. "Yes."

Joe pulled her gently to him again, smiling into her hair. "Thank you for giving me a second chance," he whispered back. "I won't need a third. Sound good?"

The look in Vanessa's eyes as she leaned in to kiss him answered far better than anything she could have said.

And so, in silence, they conversed...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank waited in the living room for Callie to emerge. She'd helped cook and serve dinner to the guests and was finishing up with the cleaning in the kitchen.

He was still feeling a bit off, but was considerably better than he had been earlier, having slept the majority of the day, including through dinner, and having taken several extra strength Excedrin. When he realized that it was late and he had missed dinner, he had called Callie to check on her, and she had told him that she would save them both plates and that they could have a private dinner in the sunroom adjacent to the living room, a plan of which Charlie Williams readily approved.

"Hi, honey," she called out to him, snapping him from his thoughts. She walked over to him and hugged him, before taking his hand and leading him to the private room. Sure enough, she had set up their dinner by candlelight.

"How are you feeling?" she asked. "You have a bit more color than before."

Frank pulled out her chair for her before returning to his side of the table. Sitting, he reached for her hand. "Better," he agreed. "How was dinner?"

"I didn't eat yet, but the guests loved it! Cora must have been the talk of the town. It was great to make a few of her meals, but crazy in the kitchen. I'm exhausted!" She smiled, adjusting a stray piece of hair that had come loose from the braid that she wore down her back. "You should have seen me 20 minutes ago- I was a mess. Thankfully, I had brought a dress down and changed in the bathroom after serving, so I didn't look like a complete disaster before seeing you."

Frank rubbed her hand. "As always, you're gorgeous."

Callie laughed as she blushed. "I told Charlie I'd help at breakfast, so see me then. I don't know how you'll feel about the 'covered in flour' and syrup look."

"You'll smell sweet," he told her, and she giggled.

"There's that. True."

"So what'd you make?" he asked, trying to stall as long as possible and just enjoy the quiet moment.

"Beef stew," Callie reported. "It smells delicious, and it's Cora's take on the stew of the time. You know I rarely even eat beef, but this is on point!" She winked. "Oh! And cornbread made from scratch. All authentic. Try it!"

Frank chuckled at her enthusiasm as they both started to eat, but he saw right away that she had been right. The tender and juicy meat melted in his mouth, and they both laughed when, on the first bites they took, they exclaimed, "Yummmmm" simultaneously.

Throughout dinner, they caught up on the cases and life, conversation casual and easy. They did not talk about the future, though, and Frank knew he had something to discuss with her. After dinner and before dessert, he took a deep breath before changing the subject.

"That was delicious," he told her, standing up and offering her his hand.

She stood herself and smiled at him. "And romantic. Finally, we got some peace!" She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips lightly, before leading him back to the adjacent living room and sitting down again on the antique couch, snuggled against him. He sat next to her, arm around her shoulders, in contented silence, for a few minutes.

Finally, he sat up straighter and removed his arm, holding her hand instead.

"Can I talk to you about something?" he asked her, looking into her eyes.

"Oh, boy," she responded, sitting up straighter herself. She gave a resigned grin. "Never a good way to start a conversation. Sure, babe. What's up?"

Frank touched her cheek lightly before answering. "I wasn't going to say anything, but it's bothering me and we promised each other to talk- _calmly_ ," he reminded her, "if something was wrong so we could work through it."

The smile fell from her face and worry clouded her eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Earlier today," he started, being direct, "and yesterday… this whole vacation, really… I've seen you incredibly upset. Understandably, obviously. But something has been different the last two days. You looked panicked. You looked…" He released her hand and stood up, sighing deeply. "You were going to leave, weren't you?"

Callie's face flushed, and he could tell that he'd caught her off guard.

"I'm a detective and I'm in tune with body language," he explained gently. "I'm also your boyfriend who is in love with you, and I know when something's wrong. But if that wasn't enough, your friend John actually called me, if you can believe that, to tell me he's been worried about you, too. And he told me that he offered to fly you back to school early, and thought I should know."

Callie's mouth fell open, her face crimson.

"He was actually nice about it," Frank responded as casually as possible. "And he called me honestly and openly and out of complete concern for you, trying to assure me he had no agenda with you other than your mental and physical wellbeing."

"Oh," Callie managed in a small voice.

"That made me feel bad," Frank went on, blushing himself. "It made me feel like I couldn't protect you… and I guess I couldn't… I didn't." His voice was tight. "And while I appreciated his being honest with me, all I could picture was the fact that I'd be sending you back to another man's arms. And then I hated myself, Cal, because you know what? I actually considered it, because nothing means more to me than you feeling safe and supported, even… if it's not with me." He felt tears burn his eyes, though he refused to cry.

"Oh, Frank. No," Callie responded, standing in front of him. "It's not like that. I swear it." Her lip was quivering as she, too, tried to stay calm.

"It seems to be 'like that' to me," he replied at last. "You can't keep secrets like this from me. Secrets destroy relationships. And I so want to believe you- I do- about wanting to be with me, and not him. But the truth is," Frank had to stop as he was emotional, and, when he spoke, his throat was constricted, "that HE was there when IT happened, and I wasn't. I knew nothing about IT, about you, for a year and a half and I couldn't help you. I'll never forgive myself for that. So you're stuck with a choice between someone who has never betrayed you, was there for the worst time in your life, and who can take care of you and never endanger you again… and me. Seems like an easy choice."

He took several shaky breaths. "Excuse me," he muttered, and walked out to the sunroom again, heart broken.

It was several long minutes, which he needed to get control of his emotions again, before he felt Callie wrap her arms around him from behind, resting her head against his back. He covered her hands with his own as he looked out at the night sky, alight with stars. It would have been serene if he didn't feel his world crashing.

Finally, she released him and walked in front of him, looking down. When she met his eyes, she looked determined, and Frank was surprised.

"Listen to me," she said in a low voice, "and really hear what I'm saying. I can't fight your logic and reasoning. You make perfect sense. So here."

With that, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, deeply.

Frank felt his heart beating harder as he returned the kiss, full of longing and desire. After several minutes, she pulled back from him, her face flushed for a totally different reason. He could still feel her lips against his.

"Frank," she said at last, "I love YOU. I want YOU. It's really that simple."

"But…" he started to cut in.

"Stop," she told him at once. "Frank, I was scared. What happened to me is still very traumatic and I'm trying so hard to reconcile it in my mind. I don't ever want to talk about it again, because it's the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

"I know," he whispered.

"Let me work through it in my own way. I have help; I do. I'm sure I'll slip up like I did the other day and need you to listen if I bring it up, and I know you will. But I have to bury this now. I HAVE to, for my own survival." She moved closer to him again. "I know this has been hard for you, too," she added, tears in her eyes. "So I promise you, here and now, that you have me, completely and totally." She exhaled slowly.

"I called Johnny because he is my friend and he knows how to help me, because he WAS there. But we were friends before IT happened, and our friendship is certainly not based on that one thing. Frank, when I called him, it wasn't because I wanted to see him. In fact, Johnny had nothing to do with it. I wanted to get away from here, from all these triggers, not from _you_. I'd never want to get away from YOU. Please understand." She rubbed his arm gently. "My mind isn't totally healed yet. I mess up sometimes. I panicked. But your brother actually reminded me how much I have to trust in you, and that you want to help me. I needed that reminder. And I decided that I wasn't going to go away; I just forgot to confirm that with John when you got hurt."

Frank gasped. "J...Joe… knows?!" he barely managed. "You told him?!"

"No. No- never," Callie assured him. "See? I trust you so much that I know my secret is safe with you."

"It is," he acknowledged. "Always."

"John WAS there for the worst time of my life," she said quietly. "But you will be there for the best times. You protect me- you do- both physically and emotionally. You give me the strength to believe in myself again. What more could I ask?"

She took his hand and led him back inside, where she walked to an old-fashioned phonograph and put on soft music. "Dance with me," she said, softly, looking at him shyly. "Hold me in your arms. And know that I _am_ yours. Forever… if you want me."

"Oh, I want you," he whispered huskily. Frank's mind was going in a million directions, but his body responded automatically. He slipped one arm around her waist and held her hand against him as she rested her head against his chest. They began moving slowly to the music.

Several times, their lips met as they danced, and Frank finally felt himself relax as he tightened his arms around her, kissed her more sensuously. She did have his heart, completely. She was the one thing in his life over which logic held no sway, over which reason was powerless.

This was their time, and he was content as they lost themselves in the moment, the dance beat just an echo of their hearts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe walked through the front door of the Inn and stretched. It had been a good night; a cathartic night. His talk with Andrea had gone much better than he would have hoped, and the expression on Vanessa's face when he had told her about their talk he knew he would treasure forever.

Finally, things were going well. He was in love with Vanessa, and he wanted to shout it to the world. He wanted to spend every second with her now that he could forgive himself for loving her so much… Iola had accepted it; he knew that.

Walking into the Inn, quiet at this hour, he heard something in the distance and walked towards the living room. Through the glass doors, he saw Callie and Frank, dancing, surrounded by candlelight, completely rapt in each other's arms.

Joe felt a smile come to his face. "Frank, you dog," he whispered to himself, chuckling. But the sight made him unexpectedly happy. He'd come to genuinely like and respect Callie, and his instinct told him that their friendship would only deepen in time. And as for Frank, he really was a better person with her, and he could only hope that Callie would heed his warning to treat Frank's heart tenderly, because she had it- that much was obvious.

As he was about to turn back down the hallway, though, he heard the music softly wafting from the door, which was slightly ajar. He listened for a moment to its old melody and then, as he turned, he gasped.

That song. He knew that song.

His mind started racing; his heart pounding. Where? Why? What did it mean?

And then… he knew. With shaking hands, he dialed the familiar number…

and waited.


	33. Chapter 33

**Note:** _Thank you to everyone who has 'Favorited" this story, and special thanks to those of you who took the time to leave a review. The mystery will be solved by the next chapter! :) After this, there are two chapters left. Thank you to the following people who left reviews since the last chapter: Hero 76, Drumboy 100, candylou, Robin's Egg, sm2003495, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, ma 2013, BeeBee18._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 33

Early the next morning, Joe met up with everyone to review the plan.

"So you want us to go and investigate Nellie and Archie Pabst's pasts, and to see what connection there might be between Archie Pabst and Dave Evans?" Chet reviewed with Joe.

"Exactly," Joe said. "Go see Chief Cruz- he's expecting you and Frank. Go talk to the locals if need be. I'm going to go with Biff and Callie and a few officers to see them."

"Why?" Chet asked, perplexed. "I'm not sure why you have us divided like this. You might need backup."

Joe smiled and squeezed Chet's shoulder. "I'll be fine. I'm sending you to Cruz because you've done a great job analyzing the paperwork. I have to send my brother with you because he's in no shape to do much. Callie told me he was sleeping soundly all night, and he can't afford to get re-injured. Biff and I and the cops will deal with Archie, but I need a non threatening presence to distract Nellie - Callie- while we deal with her husband. It'll be fine."

"And you got to Archie how again?" Chet queried.

"The music," Joe answered, shaking his head. "Last night, I passed by the living room at the Inn and Frank and Callie were...uh… listening to an old Civil War tune. At first, I didn't think anything of it, but then it hit me right away. At the hospital when Van and I visited Nellie, that song was playing in the background. More important, remember when I got that threatening call and then Chief Cruz did as well? It was very grainy and distant, but it was hard to hear-because that very same song was in the distant background."

Chet looked puzzled. "But it must be a common song," he related. "I mean, if it's playing everywhere..."

"Yeah, I know," Joe replied, sighing. "It's actually on a CD recording of popular songs of the War that's sold in almost every store in town. But it's too coincidental. And there are still some holes in this: why would Archie attack these people? What was his motivation? And did he attack his wife- why? From all accounts, they had a solid marriage. And, even though it could be wrong, the M.E. believed pretty strongly that the wound was inflicted by a person who was right-handed, and he's not. But the music, the fact that he's a Civil War Confederate re-enactor, and the fact that he's a local and would have been around for all of this… it needs to be checked out."

Chet nodded. "I'll do my part," he said, seriously. "And even with a concussion, probably twice in a week, your brother is smarter than probably everyone there! Don't worry- we'll find something for you."

"I know you will," Joe acknowledged. "I can count on you."

Chet smiled, then added, "Good luck with Hooper. You'll need it."

Joe laughed, then waved Frank over as Chet left to get into the car.

When Frank reached him, Joe asked, "Are you okay? You look better, but that's because you're actually sleeping and listening to doctor's orders."

"Says the guy who always listens to doctor's orders. Oh, wait. That would require that you actually go to the doctor!" Frank joked. He added, "Yeah. I'm okay. Callie's taken good care of me. And now," he went on, becoming serious, "you need to take good care of her. I don't like this at all. Your theory is sound, and Pabst definitely needs to be taken in for questioning. But if it were up to me, Callie would be nowhere near this investigation."

"I understand," Joe replied, "and don't worry. She'll be okay. I need a female here and she's all I have. She mostly qualifies," he joked.

Frank sighed. "She told me that you guys have been getting along well. Don't blow it, okay? And keep her safe." He touched Joe's arm. "And I'm thrilled, by the way, on a totally separate note, that Vanessa's doing better. When does she get out again?"

"Tonight," Joe replied happily. "And thanks. I'm… happy," he went on, smiling. "Really happy."

Frank smiled back and reached out to cup the back of Joe's neck. "Good. You deserve to be."

"Thanks," he said in a low voice. "Now let me know what you find out. I'll be in touch and protect Callie; don't worry. You know what the bigger issue is, right?" he asked.

"No," Frank replied, puzzled. "What?"

"Who will protect me from Biff?" he asked.

Laughing, Frank gave Joe a quick hug before heading off to Chet. "Be careful!" he called out, and Joe smiled, grateful, as always, for his brother who looked out for him, no matter what.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once they arrived at the Pabst's store, Joe turned to both Callie and Biff. "Okay, guys," he said. "This should be pretty straightforward. I'm going to talk to Archie with officers Ryan and Goodall. Chief Cruz already called him to tell him we were coming, though he doesn't suspect anything. An officer has been stationed outside his store since last night and he hasn't tried to flee or anything. You two go upstairs to their apartment. Archie said Nellie would be there. I think he wants to spare her the fact that he knows something. Just keep her company and distract her until I text Biff; ideally, ask her some questions, too. See what she knows or may be hiding. The whole thing should take 15 or 20 minutes, because then he'll be down at the station anyway. Sound good?"

Biff smiled. "So you're saying you want me to use my charms to attract a woman. It's like breathing," he joked.

"To DISTRACT, not ATTRACT, you freaking moron," Joe replied, rolling his eyes.

"Joe, help," Callie teased as she got out of the car, and Joe chuckled. "It would have been easier to serve breakfast today than to deal with this!" she went on, eyes twinkling. "Although Charlie understood why I couldn't be there, maybe we can send Biff in my place?"

"No such luck," Joe replied. "We need to take care of those who can't fend for themselves…"

"So do we give our real names?" Biff asked, stretching as he stood. "Are we, like, undercover or something?"

"Biff, I MET them before. The Chief told them we were coming," Joe reminded him.

"Yeah, but they didn't meet _us._ Maybe I could pretend to be Frank." He started laughing and speaking in an awful British accent. "I'll be all like, 'Ullo. I'm a schola at Princeton. Would ye mind if I supped a cup o tea with ya?"

Callie started laughing as Joe stared at him.

Joe shook his head. "Really?! Since when has Frank been British, if that's the God-awful accent you're even trying to emulate? And since when is Princeton in England? And why the hell… oh, never mind!" Then he started to laugh, too. "You know what, bro? Do it. You could help me. If you want to pretend to be a Princeton student for a 20 minutes, since it will literally be the only time in your life you can be smart, fine by me. If she doesn't see through it in about 10 seconds, though, I can successfully eliminate her from the suspect pool. No one could be that stupid. I like your strategy." He smirked.

"Anytime, man. So now Callie gets to be my girlfriend, too!" Biff quipped, offering Callie his arm. "It all works out. An Ivy league college, a hottie for a girlfriend… and still, though, a jackass for a best friend. Can't win 'em all!" And with a final laugh, he headed off with Callie to the back entrance to the house.

With a small laugh, Joe turned to the rapidly approaching officers.

Knocking at the door with the officers, Joe waited for Archie to open the door. Once he did, all three men stepped inside.

"Archie, I know Chief Cruz called. Thanks for seeing me. Officers Goodall and Ryan will be waiting right here while I ask a few questions, and then we're going to need you to come down to the station with us," Joe said, directly.

Archie's eyes grew wide. "What's all this about?" he asked, backing into the store further.

Joe followed. "We have reason to believe that you may have knowledge of the recent murders in town," he stated bluntly. Noting Archie was dressed in period gear, as usual, he went on. "I need to ask a few questions, and then you might want to get changed quickly before we go."

Archie looked startled, and then almost angry. "How dare you come into my store and start accusing me of … what? Murder?"

"I'm not accusing you of anything," Joe replied. "I am TELLING you that we need to take you downtown for questioning."

"Fine," Archie stated after a minute. "Let me get my clothes. They're right by the door in the back."

"Go ahead," Joe replied, and went to back up front to speak to the officers about what was happening. Not a minute later, they all looked up as a door slammed loudly.

"Son of a -" Joe began, as he and officer Ryan took off after Archie, who had fled through the side door. Officer Goodall called for backup.

"Which way?" Goodall asked him, and Joe pointed as he saw a figure running up the alley. Joe, younger and more athletic than the officer, was able to gain ground quickly.

"Damn, he's quick for an old guy," he thought as he followed. Turning the corner into the path that led to the open fields, he paused for a moment before he heard a popping sound and a bullet hit the ground by his foot, followed by another. Archie was firing at him!

Cursing under his breath, Joe rolled away into the nearby foliage, keeping an eye on Archie's whereabouts. Seeing him turn, and ignoring the cries of Officer Ryan to stand down and stop, Joe took off again after Pabst

"I'll get this bastard," he mumbled as he took off, tired of being used as target practice.

It was only another minute before Joe saw him, as he had slowed down, apparently not expecting to be followed. Using every bit of energy he had, he thrust himself forward, sending Archie flying through the air and knocking them both to the ground.

Archie started flailing wildly as Joe kept him pinned to the ground. "You're going to wish you shot me by the time I'm through with you!" he yelled, about to punch Archie in the face, before Officer Ryan grabbed his arm and another officer grabbed Archie, handcuffing him and reciting his Miranda rights. The second officer hauled Archie, still screaming, away.

"Nice job, Joe," Officer Ryan huffed. "Look- there's that damned gun- Civil War era again. That's going to the station as evidence. You okay, kid?"

Joe stood up and wiped off his shorts, which were now covered in dirt. "Yeah, I'm fine," he grumbled. "What the hell just happened? We tell the guy that we're taking him in for questioning and the next thing I know he's running and I'm getting shot at."

Officer Ryan shook his head. "I have no idea," he admitted. "I've known Archie for ten years-this is the last thing that I would have expected. Awful. Come on. Let's get you down to the station and figure out what the hell is going on."

He started walking and Joe followed, grabbing the gun. "All I know is that I was shot at two separate times by a gun from this time period. It HAS to have been Archie both times. It makes no sense otherwise." As they arrived at the car, Joe turned to the officer. "You can go back to the station. Take the gun. I'm going to get my friends and we'll meet you."

"I'll wait," Officer Ryan responded, kindly. "The whole freaking department is here anyway, it seems. I might as well start on the paperwork. I'd almost rather get shot than die of the boredom that'll get me as I fill this out!" He indicated the street, where there were four to five cruisers surrounding the area as the car with Archie departed.

"Suit yourself," Joe replied, smiling, as Officer Ryan headed to his car with the gun. He texted Biff and called Frank to let him know what had happened.

"Did YOU find anything?" he asked Frank when he was done relating the events.

He heard Frank sigh on the other end of the line. "That's a lot to process," Frank said. "I'm just glad that you're okay."

"I'm tough," Joe joked. "Takes more than a maniac shooting at me with an antique gun to get me down."

"I really have no response for that," Frank replied, dryly. "But in any case, Chet and I might be onto something… weird. I have to look into it more, but it looks as if there's more to the Pabsts than meets the eye. I'm just trying to make sense of it all. Anyway, get down here ASAP and we can go over everything and see what Charlie has to say."

"Will do," Joe agreed, and pushed the button to hang up. Looking at his watch, he realized it had been ten minutes since he'd texted Biff.

"Come on," he murmured, eager to get going. When five more minutes had passed, he gave up. Texting Officer Ryan as to where he would be, he headed to the back path of the store which led to the Pabst's private apartment. Climbing the stairs, he went to knock on the apartment door, but it swung open. Immediately on high alert, he pushed open the door and audibly gasped.

At Biff, lying unconscious on the ground.

At Callie, on the floor, moaning in pain.

And above all, at Nellie Pabst, in period gear, with a club raised above her head, about to swing it right on Callie's head.

And then… he understood. It all made sense.

But he had no time to think as Callie screamed…

...and time froze.


	34. Chapter 34

**Note:** _Well, this is it- the resolution to the case! There is one more "wrap up" chapter after this which I will post in a few days. Thank you to everyone who has been so kind to leave feedback/reviews since the last chapter; as always, you are much appreciated! To that end, many thanks to the following people: TinDog, EvergreenDreamweaver, Drumboy100, Hero 76, BMSH, max2013, ErinJordan, Paulina Ann, sm2003495, candylou, and BeeBee18._

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 34

"No!" Joe screamed, startling Nellie and causing her to jump. It gave him just enough time to burst across the room and grab her from behind as he struggled to get her to drop the weapon.

Joe was shocked by how strong she was and how hard she struggled. Wrestling with her, it was almost as if she were driven on by something else, not completely in her right mind.

"Let it go!" he grunted as he reached for it, giving a silent prayer of thanks that he was taller and stronger than her naturally. Finally, he was able to grab the club from her hand and throw it to the ground, but, in the process, she slipped from his arms.

Fortunately, as she ran for the door, she didn't get far. Somehow, Biff had managed to stand and had grabbed her immediately, securing her arms behind her back while Joe texted for backup.

"I got her," Biff huffed, though she remained struggling against him. But at 6'5" and close to 225 pounds, no one was getting away from Biff.

"You okay?" Joe managed, trying to catch his breath.

Biff nodded.

Joe kneeled immediately on the floor next to Callie, who was sitting up, arms wrapped around her abdomen and moaning lightly.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"I'm okay," she managed, though her tear-filled eyes betrayed her. "She just- she hit me pretty hard before you got here."

"Where?" Joe asked, concerned.

"My side," she said. "I'm okay."

"Yeah, you said that," he replied with a small smile. "Let me help you up."

As he helped Callie to her feet, her saw her scrunch her face in pain and exhale rapidly a few times.

"Let me see," he told her. "And don't argue."

Callie pulled up the side of her shirt a bit, and Joe winced. It was black and blue and swollen slightly, and he could tell that it hurt.

Before he could say anything more, Officer Ryan and a separate officer ran into the room and apprehended Nellie. Biff, hand on his head, told Joe that he would go with the officers and tell them what had happened and that he'd meet him outside. Less than a minute later, Joe was alone with Callie.

Gently, he rested his hand against her side, impressed that she wasn't crying and was holding it together fairly well. "Ever have a broken rib before?" he asked her, gently.

"I'm not sure. Maybe. Why?" she asked, weakly.

"Welcome to the club," he told her, ignoring her odd response. "And there's not a damned thing you can do for it except to wrap it and ice it and wait for it to heal sometime in the next six weeks or so."

"Are you serious?!" she asked, and he chuckled when he saw how affronted she looked.

"I'm afraid so," he told her. "But look!" he lifted his own shirt where he had been attacked several days prior, and which was now a sea of ugly bruising as well. "Now we match!" He smiled at her. "Cause if mine wasn't broken the first time, it sure as hell is now after the day I've had."

"But you…" she started.

"Aren't on the edge of tears?" he asked. "I'm used to it, even though it hurts like hell. Besides, Joe Hardy doesn't shed tears. His eyes just sweat."

Callie burst out laughing and then regretted it immediately as she inadvertently let a few tears escape from her eyes. Joe slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her head. "I know," he whispered. "You can sweat a little, too."

"Thanks," she replied in a small voice, wiping tears with the back of her hand.

"My brother is going to kill me for letting you get hurt," he told her. Then, to cheer her up, he added, "Thank god he has a concussion. You probably bought yourself a few days before he gets to see you naked."

"Joe!" she exclaimed, mortified.

He started laughing. "And then, if you do it in the dark for a bit…"

She pulled away from him and smacked his arm, hard.

"Stop that!" she declared, serious, and he could see that she really was embarrassed. He forgot for a moment that she and Frank were not him and Vanessa, and that though Callie could joke about almost anything, including sex in general, she really was guarded and private about her real life with Frank. He could respect that.

"Sorry, Cal," he apologized. "I'll shut up. I guess I should be thankful there wasn't a beer you could throw in my face."

"There's that," she muttered at last, though the edges of a smile crept up.

He took her hand and led her to a seat. "What happened?" he asked.

Callie met his eyes as she took a deep breath and unexpectedly cried out in pain.

"Small breaths," he told her, rubbing her back. "Sit straight and don't bend. No sudden movement. In fact, hang on."

He got up and ran to the Pabst's kitchen. It was no surprise when he opened the freezer and found two ice packs. Wrapping them quickly in paper towels, he walked back to Callie. "Gently," he told her, "put it here." He pointed at her side and handed her both.

"You take one," she responded automatically, "given we match and all."

Joe smiled and did as she ordered, wincing himself, but knowing it would help. "And before you tell me what happened, I am sending you with Biff to the hospital to get checked out. Let's hope it's a minor crack. No arguing. Like I said, my brother might kill me."

Callie nodded slowly. "Okay," she agreed at last. "But stop saying that. You probably saved my life. " She managed a small smile. "One might think you're growing fond of me."

"Let's not exaggerate, Shaw," he teased. Then, more directly, he added, "Can you tell me what happened? The place will be swarming with cops and I want you have something to tell them before they start harassing you. You need to get to that hospital."

Callie shifted in her seat, bracing herself, as she spoke in short, punctuated sentences. "Yeah. It's pretty simple. Biff and I knocked on the door and she answered. She was expecting us." She took a few short breaths and Joe waited patiently.

"She offered us a drink and...Biff… he was being silly when she… was in … the kitchen."

"You're doing good," he encouraged her, rubbing her back slowly again with his free hand.

"He said he was going… to investigate. Stood up… said something like, 'You, Miss Shaw, will learn not to lie to me…playing detective... just being dumb." She was struggling now.

"Go on," he said gently.

"And it's like she flipped… I think she thought… that Biff… was going to hurt me…"

Joe sucked in a breath. Yes. God, it all made sense now.

"So she ran out of the kitchen and hit Biff... with a pan or something… and he went down. Then, before… I could process... she grabbed that club and hit me… three or four times… you saw… the rest."

Joe felt rage in his veins. "She hit you that many times? That hard?"

Callie nodded, very pale.

Joe dropped the ice pack he was using and texted Biff to go with the police and paramedics and to send the EMTs inside. Then, carefully, he pulled Callie close and held her loosely as she rested her head against his shoulder. "You're okay now," he whispered. "I promised you I would protect you and I will. May this be the worst thing to ever happen to you."

He couldn't swear to it, but he thought he heard her whisper, "I wish it was."

"What?" he asked softly.

"I wish it is," she replied quietly.

He shrugged at the verb tense change and told her, "You're okay, Shaw."

She just held his hand as they waited for help.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was chaos at the police station with both Pabsts in custody and officers milling about, plus the hordes of reporters outside waiting for the story.

Inside, Joe met with Chief Cruz who escorted him to a back room where Chet and a very nervous-looking Frank were waiting.

"She's okay," Joe said before Frank could even stand or say a word. "I insisted that she get checked out- Biff, too- at the hospital, and they'll meet us back at the Inn later. And before you freak out, she probably has a broken rib or two, but she is OKAY. Repeat that in your brain before you go all He-Man protective on her."

Frank took a deep breath. "What happened?" he asked, at last, trying to be calm.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, Joe related everything that had happened that day, up to and including the attack by Nellie and her being taken into custody.

Chief Cruz sighed. "I hope you can fill in the holes, Joe, because Archie is in the back cell sobbing that he didn't mean to do it, but he's sorry, and Nellie is sitting stoically not saying a word. She looks traumatized. So… how did Archie do it?"

Frank, Chet, and Chief Cruz all became silent, waiting for him to speak.

"He didn't," Joe said after a few minutes of collecting his thoughts. "Nellie did."

"What?!" Chief Cruz asked, aghast. "That makes no sense."

"It does," Joe responded quietly.

Frank had been sorting through papers and exchanged a glance with Chet, who nodded. "It may indeed," Frank added. "Chet and I found something interesting. It's… it's out there… but it may fit. Go on, Joe."

Joe smiled, grateful that Frank always had his back.

"Frank and I always knew that the key to the case had to lie with either the first murder, which didn't fit the pattern, or with the Pabsts, since Vanessa and I were threatened directly. Why threaten us unless we saw something that we shouldn't have seen, or someone thought that we did? So we kept digging, and then slowly things started to come together. And today- the last piece, or almost the last piece- of the puzzle made sense."

"Do tell," Chief Cruz encouraged him. "Please."

Joe sat forward and Frank gave him a small thumbs up of approval. "Go ahead, Joe," Frank encouraged him. "Now that we have them here and we know what went down today, I think it proves your theory."

"Okay," Joe began. "Let's work backwards. Today, for whatever reason, Nellie thought that Biff was threatening Callie, and Callie was hurt, hit with a club." He saw Frank inhale, and looked at him. "She is OKAY," he reminded him. "Moving on, in the murder of Kennedy Lane, the boyfriend, Adam Halperin, was violent to her. They got in a big fight and he claims that there were witnesses. She was bludgeoned. The prior attack was with Nellie and Archie- I'll get to that in a minute. Previous to that, Jennifer Knightly was shot, AFTER she was with a client who was being violent towards her. And then we come to the first murder, which is harder to explain, but it started with violence towards women again."

"I don't understand," Chief Cruz commented. "I see what you're saying… kind of… but why would a woman attack women?"

"I think Chet and I can explain that," Frank replied soberly. "But keep going, Joe. The first murder is the key to everything; you were right."

Joe nodded. "Frank and I spent a lot of time on that one. Nellie Pabst was probably checking out her rival, Peter Stobak's store, just to see what was new. They're really the only antique book dealers in town. She went in the first day in disguise, because she didn't want to be recognized by Peter or Maggie, who was fairly new. We know this because Peter told me that he remembered a blonde woman who was very nervous the whole day, and who returned several times before purchasing a book at the store."

"Uh huh," Chief Cruz said. "Go on."

"Something obviously must have triggered Nellie," Joe explained. "And clearly it was the book that she purchased, called _Assault on Innocence_ by Carolyn Del Gato. Something about it made her snap. She looked at the cover and saw the story and couldn't get it out of her mind. So she spent the day going back and forth to Stobak's and visiting Carolyn Del Gato, asking her lots of questions as well. When she finally purchased the book, she paid cash and used an alias."

"And the alias was the name of a real life historian who discussed theories of the effects of rape on women," Frank replied quietly, looking upset. When he continued, he had everyone's attention, as he often did when he spoke. "We knew it had to be a local person, since the address she gave was, in fact, a real location. A tourist wouldn't know that."

"Throughout the whole time, things were bothering me," Joe cut in. "Little things that didn't make sense. In the murder of the prostitute, the scream came from OUTSIDE. Nellie must have seen what was happening through the window and screamed. And it finally hit me today what I've been missing the whole time. When Van and I saw the attack, it was very shadowy. We assumed that we saw someone attacking Nellie, but… I'm pretty sure what we really saw was Nellie… attacking Archie."

"What?!" Chief Cruz exclaimed, flabbergasted. "She was put in the hospital! What- she stabbed herself?"

"Yes," Frank responded. "By accident."

At Chief Cruz's puzzled expressed, Joe interrupted. "Archie must have done something to make her feel threatened in some way. He was trying to stop her from attacking him in self-defense. In the process, she was stabbed- superficially. He covered for her because he loved her."

Now even Chet looked confused. "But- why would he do that? She tried to hurt him?"

"He loves her," Frank replied, simply. "That's why he's in the holding cell ranting and raving about the fact that he did it. He's trying to protect her even now."

"And what I saw… I didn't actually see," Joe went on. "It bothered me the whole time. I saw a man attacking a woman. What I didn't realize is that both the Civil War men and women re-enactors wear capes! Nellie was wearing one that night; that's why I assumed it was a man. I had no clear line of vision."

"So Archie realized what Nellie had done, and must have made the connection to the first two murders, so he had to get rid of any witnesses to the crime- Joe and Van- and that's why it was him who shot at us in the parking lot here and who attacked Joe when he was with Chet in the cemetery," Frank went on. "He dodged into the Civil War roundtable meeting and blended right in, knowing there was no way to track any members, especially during this huge anniversary year. He's a re-enactor. He would have access to guns of the period. Plus, he owns a shop. It'd be easy to get. And he had to get rid of Vanessa, too- and he almost did."

"And there's no connection to Hank Williams, who also shot with a Civil War gun?" Chet asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"None," Frank explained. "A strange coincidence, but not altogether unrealistic given the town we're in and the availability of artifacts."

"But there IS one connection to the Williams case," Joe stated, noting the surprised looks from those gathered. "The whole time, we've been puzzled by the fact that Biff was hit with the dart on the Williams case but Callie was hit with a dart on the murder case. Again, two separate people! McAllister and Archie. The tie in? Archie would have supplied the darts to Hank- they were old friends, and Hank passed along the dart. And Hank would have had them. Remember? Chief Cruz, one of the first things you said to me about him was that he was a hunter. Those darts- they were for hunting."

"Holy crap." Cruz said in a low voice. "This is wild."

Frank agreed before speaking. "Well, one thing that always bothered us was the M.O. Normally, criminals don't vary in their methodology, certainly not to the extent that this case involved. Knife, sword, gun, club. What that shows us is that this is an inexperienced killer who uses whatever is available at her disposal and who does not act with premeditation. Each time, there was a trigger involved that involved violence towards women."

"But- that takes great strength!" Cruz exclaimed. "Certainly, the knife attacks and bludgeoning did."

"Which is why we assumed the killer was a man. What we didn't do was take into account the extra strength that people can exhibit when they're functioning in a fight or flight adrenaline rush. That's why there were no hesitation marks-because she was in an altered state and was NOT hesitating. And, to Nellie, each instance must have seemed like a panicked attack to her for some reason. It does explain the fact that the attacker was right- handed," Joe explained.

"And the Civil War glove found at the scene of Nellie's supposed attack and the gum?" Chet asked.

"They meant nothing," Joe said with a sigh. "It was gum wrappers from a kind of gum he chews. And the glove was from his uniform. It probably fell off when he was fending off Nellie," Joe went on.

"Didn't you guys say that Stobak was at Del Gato's?" Chet asked. "Did he have anything todo with it?"

Joe rolled his eyes. "No, but I bet he wished that he had. He's harmless. He just wants to be a detective and put together a few clues. Oddly, he actually led us to some big breaks, completely by accident. I'll have to tell him that. It'll make his life." Joe smiled.

"So... Nellie...?" Chet began.

"Murdered three women," Frank answered. "And Archie attempted to kill both Joe and Vanessa. He also threatened Joe and Van by calling Joe. He had his number from the hospital."

"Actually," Joe cut in, thoughtful, "I don't think so. He called me for sure the first time, but that recording was grainy. And while the second one was, too, it was different- mentioned Vanessa by name. I think it was actually Nellie that second time, because it taunted the police and talked about stopping violence. Nellie was crying out for what she wanted to do, but didn't even know that she was doing it. I think Frank or Chet can explain that later, based on what they've told me."

"We can," Chet agreed with a smile.

"The one missing piece, though," Joe started, "is why. I mean, really. We even thought for a time that it was a man trying to get revenge on women who had done him wrong, or maybe punishing women for some reason. Why would she hurt women? What triggered her?"

When Frank spoke up, he looked genuinely distraught, so much so that Joe almost asked if he was feeling okay. "Chet and I did some background research on the Pabsts. They married young and basically lived a clean life. But Chief Cruz had told us that Nellie was 'wild' when she was younger but had straightened herself out. We wanted to look into it. Nellie was a victim of… rape…" Frank choked out, "at last twice that we were able to find, and rumors circulated that she was also molested as a child. Apparently, she lived with the trauma of it for many years."

"Frank?" Joe asked, concerned when he saw that Frank was getting upset.

Frank ignored him. "This may be a case of what psychologists call a transference-of-guilt. Nellie was triggered by the violence that she saw in that painting on the book and in that story. Instead of getting angry and vengeful towards the men, she imposed herself as the assailant and killed all those women as a way of re-enacting the assault on her. Her husband covered up for her and was the one trying to kill Joe and Van to prevent them from finding out about his wife's murder spree."

Chief Cruz sat back and let out a low whistle. "This is the most convoluted, complex case I have ever come across," he said, finally.

"But my friends solved the case," Chet added proudly, "and now it's done."

Chief Cruz smiled. "Now it's done. Another Hardy Boys win," Chief Cruz stated, and shook everyone's hand. "Thank you. You did a fine job."

On the way outside, as Chet stopped at the vending machine, Joe turned to his brother. "Frank? You look upset."

Frank managed to smile. "You did a great job," he commended Joe. "I'm proud of you. You took the lead on this case and hit it out of the park."

Joe smiled. "Thanks, bro. But-"

"But," Frank interrupted, "I'd just really, really like to see my girlfriend right now," he said, quietly. "And while we're there, I don't think you'll mind seeing yours."

"Good idea," Joe said at last, and slung an arm around Frank's shoulders. "And then let's go celebrate. The battle is over and victory is ours."

"Ready guys?" Chet asked, coming up behind them.

"Absolutely," Joe replied. "Let's go."


	35. Chapter 35

Civil Skirmishes

Chapter 35- Conclusion

At the end of August, Frank finished packing odds and ends into his car in preparation for his return to college. He always ended up leaving more junk at his parents' house than he intended, and needing more things for his apartment on campus than the year before. The summer had flown by, and, before he'd known it, it was time to go back to school. He still had to say goodbye to his brother, but he walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple first, closing his eyes and remembering the last week and a half, one of the best times of his life.

Callie had to go back to UCLA a full two weeks before he had to return to Princeton, and his heart had ached all summer at the thought of letting her go. Their time together had been so limited, and, other than the vacation from hell in Gettysburg, they'd had no vacation away together, commitments, family, friends, and cases filling up their individual schedules. Even their dates had been rushed and all too infrequent.

That case in Gettysburg had made him realize many things about her, about them, about the issues that they still needed to work through despite their absolute commitment to and deep love for each other. In a spur of the moment decision, after having met with her parents several times to clarify his intentions towards her, and finally having them on his side, he asked if they would mind if he flew out to California with her to help her get settled in. And, to his astonishment, they not only did they not try to discourage him, but they also very much supported the idea.

The time they'd had was something he would treasure for the rest of his life. She'd been so excited to show him her world, her new existence, and he'd been thrilled to experience it with her. They'd spent their days at the beach, running, swimming, surfing, sightseeing, and enjoying the perfect weather and scenery, and their nights reconnecting, treasuring the time they had sorely needed for intimacy in each other's arms.

Johnny had been away for a lot of the time, just as Callie had said he would be. But for two of those days, he'd been there, and Frank had cautiously watched him alone and with Callie. And, slowly, he began to see in Johnny what Callie had described: a genuine, fun, friendly person who teased Callie and made her laugh, and who also loved her very much. For the first time, really, Frank found himself comforted by it. Yes, Callie and Johnny did care deeply for each other, it was totally obvious, but it was not the love that he shared with Callie; not even close. He even found himself liking Johnny as well, and the thought that Johnny would protect her in his absence gave him solace.

One day, when Callie was registering for classes, he had a few hours alone. Johnny had approached him and told him that it was probably time to see where IT had happened, to go through things from his point of view. And, though the thought terrified him, they had done so. It had taken Frank's breath away and he'd felt his knees go weak as he'd sank down on a bench near the scene. His stomach was in knots and he'd gotten very choked up. How a place could look so innocent but hold such abject horror inside… much like the battlefield at Gettysburg… was still beyond him.

He had almost been unable to catch his breath when he felt Johnny's arm around him, his simple "I understand" uniting them forever, because he DID understand, and was the only one who ever really would. And Johnny had tentatively offered to listen if Frank ever needed to work through his own complex feelings about Callie's attack. Shocked, he'd met Johnny's eyes and felt- relief. It took a lot for him to trust people, but Johnny was different- he'd be forever bound to him through Callie- and he _did_ need to talk. It dawned on him as well that Johnny probably needed to talk as well. Very slowly, he nodded and Johnny gave him a small smile. As a teary Johnny had showed him the scene, he'd related what he'd seen and done, and tried to explain how it had affected her and him as well. It was one of the most emotionally painful conversations that Frank had ever experienced, but he was glad that he'd done it, because now he knew, and knowledge was power.

Johnny had told him about his relationship with Callie, too, and it mirrored exactly what Callie had told him. He assured Frank that she was much better, and that they rarely, if ever, talked of it anymore. And Johnny had told him, point blank, that he loved Callie with all his heart, but she was, unequivocally, "Frank's girl." He had a feeling that he and Johnny were going to be good friends one day, and they solidified plans to meet over Thanksgiving break in New York to really talk and make sure the air was clear.

On the final day that he and Callie had spent together, they'd sequestered themselves in the apartment, making love for hours, just trying to freeze time, and, that night, he remembered vividly the emotion he'd felt when holding her in his arms, a feeling he wouldn't be able to replicate for months. He'd seen the devotion in her eyes, the absolute trust, and he knew that he would marry her; love her for the rest of his life. They'd worked through so much in their past, and he could not wait for the day when he would place a ring on her finger and ask her to be his wife. Even now, the thought made him a little giddy.

He loved her with everything he had and was, and their skirmishes had only made them stronger. He smiled to himself at the memory, willing the next few months to pass quickly so he would be with her again.

"Someone's daydreaming," Joe cut into his thoughts as he plopped next to him by the table. "And that look on your face was none too innocent, so I can only imagine what you were thinking about."

Frank blushed. Leave it to Joe.

"Leaving so soon, big brother?" Joe asked.

"Yeah," Frank replied with a sigh. "I really have to get going."

"I'll walk you out," Joe commented, and Frank smiled.

Once at Frank's car, Joe said, "Hell of a summer, huh? I'm glad you were around to spend it with me."

"I'm glad, too, Joe," Frank answered sincerely. "I have to tell you… you've grown up a lot this summer. Really. I couldn't be more proud of you."

Joe blushed a bit, always happy to receive praise from his role model. "I think I got a lot of shit... stuff..." he corrected quickly, despite Frank's grin, "figured out. Chet and I- we're good now," he said quietly.

"I know," Frank told him. "And Chet is really happy about it."

"We're making plans to get together at least once or twice a month- visit at each other's colleges… things like that."

"That's good," Frank assured him. "And… it's a healthy way to remember and honor Iola, too."

Joe took a deep breath before nodding. "It is."

"Callie and you seem to be buddies now," Frank cut in, changing the subject for Joe. "Can I trust this?"

"I made you a promise and her a promise," Joe said directly. Before Frank could question that, he added, "don't ask. That's between her and me. But the upshot is that yeah- we're good. I kind of like her," he joked, and, seeing how happy that thought made his brother, he smiled. "Actually, I really like her. She makes me think, she challenges me, she drives me nuts...which is mutual, I'm sure," he added. "But you know what? When I think of her more as like… a sister… than your girlfriend, it makes sense to me. And I'll tell you what I told her: if we don't kill each other, we may end up the best of friends."

Joe felt his smile soften as he saw how his words made Frank's eyes tear. "Don't worry about either of us. We're okay. We've reached a truce; the war is over."

Frank reached over and hugged him tightly, and Joe felt himself get a little teary himself. "I love you," Joe told him. "Thank you for everything. You always know how to keep me in line."

Frank pulled back and smiled. "You are stronger than you know, and you always make me proud. I love you, too. Everyone loves you. Promise me you will love yourself." He laughed when he saw Joe wipe his eyes.

"Sweating?" he teased.

Joe started laughing. "She told you, huh? Now she'd better watch out. In fact, I may call her and give her the heads up about sharing our little secrets and my ability to get revenge."

Frank chuckled before speaking. "Say hi to Hooper and Vanessa for me. And Joe? You're doing the right thing."

Joe felt himself smile from ear to ear. "I know I am. Call me when you get there, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," Frank teased back as he got into his car. With a final wave and honked horn, Frank departed. Joe fought back the tears again. He was so lucky to have Frank as his big brother, and he was grateful for all the time Frank had given him this summer and for every season of his life, really.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Joe knocked on the door to Vanessa's apartment, eager to see her. When she opened the door, Joe placed the bag he had brought with him on the floor and scooped her into his arms, holding her close.

"Mmmmm, I missed you so much," he murmured into her ear.

"I missed you, too," she answered him, leaning back slightly to kiss him.

When they finally pulled apart, Vanessa nuzzled his nose. "Come on. I have something I need you for in the bedroom."

Joe sighed dramatically. "What does a guy have to do these days to avoid being judged solely on devastating good looks? You'd think at least a guy could get wined and dined before being expected to get into bed."

Vanessa started laughing. "The double standard is excruciating, yes," she giggled. "But I'm not getting you into bed- yet," she added, a mischievous look in her eyes. "I need to show you something."

"That's how it always starts," he joked, and Vanessa swatted him.

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "What do you have to show me in the bedroom? I can't believe I'm asking you that with zero expectations of sex," he teased.

"Joe! Just follow me!" she exclaimed, and took his hand.

Once inside, she reached into a dresser drawer and handed him a rectangular box. "Here," she said shyly. "This was supposed to be for our anniversary, but… you know," she added with a blush. "Anyway, I wanted you to have it. The day doesn't matter. Just look at it as a token of my undying love and appreciation for you."

Joe smiled and unwrapped the mirrored box. "Damn, that's a good looking gift."

Vanessa raised her brows. "What?! You didn't open it yet."

"It's a mirror," Joe replied with a straight face. "You can't blame me for appreciating the attractiveness when I look at it."

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "Open it!" she told him.

Joe winked at her and opened the box. Inside was the gorgeous sports watch that he'd admired for close to a year. "Wow," he breathed as he removed the watch. "You didn't need to do this, babe," he said quietly, touched.

"You like it?" Vanessa asked, almost as excited as he was.

"I love it," he whispered. Leaning over to her, he pulled her into him and kissed her deeply. "Now here's the part where I'd normally make mad, passionate love to you," he joked lightly, "but that's gonna have to wait, because I brought you a few gifts, too."

Vanessa's brow shot up. "Wait. I thought you were just coming over to hang out tonight. You didn't say anything about gifts. Why?"

"Because I love you," he said, simply. "And because I want to give you a few things. I'm really hoping you'll like them. Go in the living room. I'll be right there. And don't peak!" he cautioned her.

Joe watched as Vanessa took a seat on the couch and he took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. He took a moment to look at her, this beautiful woman who had changed him forever. And it was more than her beauty that spoke to him, though she was stunning: she had never tried to change him, had given him time and patience and support, allowing him to make his own mistakes and to learn from them. In turn, in her, he'd found his best friend, the woman who he woke up every day for, excited to see what the world would hold in store. He would no longer waste a second of his life holding back his feelings: she deserved to know what his heart could not say.

He walked over to her and took the bag with him. "Vanessa," he began, his voice a little shaky, "I can never thank you enough for all you've done for me. You are my reason to get up every day and I swear to god you make my life worth living. I love you more than you will ever know."

He watched as she blushed, saw the tears in her eyes. "I love you, too," she whispered.

He took a deep breath again and went on. "But talk is cheap. So I wanted to get you a few things to show you that I listen to you and I value you. So, gift one." He handed her a box.

Vanessa smiled and unwrapped it. "It's my perfume!" she exclaimed. "Aw, sweetie, thanks. I was running low on it."

Joe smiled and touched her cheek. "That's not the point. I gave it to you in a blue box, your favorite color, and I knew what your favorite perfume was. I remember a day you weren't so confident I knew those things."

"Oh, Joe," she whispered.

"Now gift two," he went on, handing her another package wrapped in blue, as they all were. When she opened it, she gasped. It was a framed photo of her parents and her from when she was a small child, one of the few that remained of all of them.

"I got a copy from your mom," he told her. "Your mom, who I've gotten to know. And I want to know her better and to know all about your dad."

Vanessa's lip quivered.

"Baby, I don't care if it's good or bad. Those two people helped to make the most beautiful and amazing woman, and I want to know all of you, like you will know all of me."

Vanessa nodded, wiping back tears.

"Gift three," he told her, and, laughing slightly, she opened it.

"It's an antique plate from Gettysburg!" she gasped. "The blue and white kind. Oh, Joe. It's beautiful."

"I got your mom a matching one, so you'd be connected. And I know about how you got interested in it, ya little trouble-maker," he teased her.

"Gift four," he went on, handing her an envelope.

Opening it, she smiled. "A Baskin Robbins gift card?" she asked, puzzled.

"I never did get you that ice cream this summer," he reminded her. "And I will treat you to as many Butter Pecan cones as you'd like. See? I know the right flavor; I always did. I just was distracted and an idiot one day. Forgive me as we consume just ugly amounts of calories over dessert each day."

"I love it, baby. Thank you." She was deeply touched by the gesture.

"Not done yet!" Joe replied. "Look on the back of the card."

Vanessa's nose wrinkled. "2972? What the heck is that?"

"The passcode to my phone," he replied, seriously. "I have nothing to hide from you. I'm sorry it took me so long to give it to you."

Vanessa was crying openly now. "Change it," she whispered.

"What? Why?" he asked, shocked.

"I never needed it," she sobbed quietly. "I just wanted to know that you'd trust me with it. Thank you."

Joe smiled. "I'm not changing it," he reassured her.

"4321," Vanessa sniffled.

Joe burst out laughing. "Okay, well, we're changing yours!" he replied, his eyes twinkling. "That's an awful passcode. Do you have 'password' as your password for other things?"

At her silence, he continued to laugh. "Wow."

"Oh, hush," she laughed through her tears.

When they settled down, Joe suddenly felt a little light headed. His palms were sweaty and he felt very nervous. This was it.

"One more thing," he told her, and he handed her a little box. "This is the most important of all." He breathed deeply. "Open it."

Vanessa saw the intensity of his stare and opened the box. Inside was a simple key. She looked at him questioningly.

"Look at me," he said to her, touching her face tenderly. "Look what's different about me."

It took her a few minutes, but she gasped.

"That's right," he whispered. "No more necklace. I thought I would exchange one set of old mangled keys for a brand new one. Vanessa, will you move in with me?"

Vanessa felt the air sucked from her lungs and she could barely breathe. She nodded furiously as Joe stood and lifted her in his arms, tears in his eyes to match her own.

"I'm so relieved," he choked out. "I just needed time to honor Iola and to say goodbye, and I know she's okay with us. Thank you for giving me a reason to live each day and a hope for my future. I love you, baby."

Vanessa was shaking. "What about Biff?" she managed.

Joe laughed. "He knows. He was kind of pissed until I promised him a guy's night out once a week and free beer night the third Thursday of the month. Plus, he's getting a single apartment next year and he's not too upset about that."

"Now I really want to show you something in the bedroom," she whispered seductively in his ear.

Joe felt his heart fill with love. It had been a summer of intense pain and personal growth, and learning to let go of the past to carve a new future. Three months ago, he'd been afraid to commit to the woman he loved for fear of betraying the love of his past. He'd taken Biff for granted simply because he was Biff. He'd isolated himself from Chet, found every reason to challenge Frank on everything, and hated Callie. He'd downed his sorrows in liquor and self -loathing.

But now, as summer was winding down, his hopes were higher than ever. He'd made peace with Iola, reconnected with Chet, grown even closer with his brother, and found a new, dear friendship with Callie. He and Biff were brothers, tighter than ever, despite the move. He'd taken the time to know Andrea, and his precious Vanessa had given him another chance, one which he would not forsake. And he'd learned that dulling the pain meant not facing it, and he was through running.

Yes, he knew now that sometimes war would rage within everyone, and the battles would leave their scars. But if he could forgive his own actions and be civil with himself, the skirmishes would eventually end, and a new, better peace would emerge, full of happiness and boundless promise.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 **Author's** **note** : I _would like to thank many people who have been so kind to leave positive reviews and messages for me on this story. Nothing is more encouraging than to read reviews and to see 1) that people are actually reading the story and that 2) they care enough to share their thoughts. I want to especially thank those of you who left feedback on almost all of the chapters. It has been a great pleasure for me getting to "know" so many of you via PMs and comments. However, every person who has left feedback is very much appreciated. To that end, thank you to the following people: Barb, BeeBee18, BMSH, candylou, Caranath, Drumboy100, Erin Jordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, FanHB08, Guests, Hero 76, hbndgirl, hlahabibty, Iheartninjago2010, Lina 59, MAN UTD, max2013, Moon in Scorpio, NexttoMe, Orions Belte, Paulina Ann, Red Hardy, Robin's Egg, sm2003495, TinDog, and Tinee Dancer. Thanks as well to those who "Favorited" the story or who just simply read it. I know that time is valuable, so thank you for sharing yours with me._

 _I have written one more story (a holiday one) called "Stay by my Side", which is ten chapters long and jumps ahead to a few months after "The Stages of Conviction" left off- same universe. If you're interested, I would love to have you read it. I'll start to post it in a week or so. Other than that, I have no other stories written at this time. I will finish posting "Christmas Wishes", a story I co-wrote with Red Hardy, and I MAY post an old story (2002) that I wrote for a holiday contest on HDA, called "Fly Away". We shall see about that one! Hopefully, I'll start to plot out a new story in the same arc; that is, if the muses are willing to help!_

 _I have enjoyed the writing process immensely, and I'm grateful to have had the opportunity to share my imagination with people._ _I thank those of you who have been so supportive and kind from the bottom of my heart. Thanks for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed the ride. Happiest of holidays to all of you!_

 _—Cheryl_


End file.
